The Penance Series
by delectate
Summary: The road to forgiveness is long and arduous...just ask Zuko. Season 3 Zutara, following the episodes past 312. Rated M for Mature.
1. Absolution

A/N: Takes place after episode 312, "The Western Air Temple". Rated **M** for **Many Sexytiems**. You've been warned!

This story has been on Livejournal for a while now, but I thought it was time to finally expose it to . Hopefully this will give me the much-needed incentive to finally finish part 3, "Contrition".

Also, Voting for the 2009 UFO Awards has begun! I have two fics nominated, one of them Zutara. Link for voting is in my profile. Go vote!!!

* * *

That you were once unkind befriends me now,  
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,  
Needs must I under my transgression bow,  
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.

For if you were by my unkindness shaken  
As I by yours, y'have passed a hell of time,  
And I a tyrant have no leisure taken  
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.

O that our night of woe might have remembered  
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,  
And soon to you, as you to me then tendered  
The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits!

But that your trespass now becomes a fee,  
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

-_William Shakespeare, Sonnet #120_

* * *

**absolution**

_meaning:_ _forgiveness_

* * *

He thought he'd been asleep maybe an hour, maybe two, but Zuko woke up quickly when he felt the presence of someone in his bedroom.

It was Katara, again. She stood in his doorway, still in her day-clothes, as was he. But the difference was that she looked as though she hadn't slept at all so far that night—her long hair was tousled all around her, some of the edges curled up, reminiscent of someone tossing and turning. Most of all, she looked downright _pissed._

Instantly alert and fully awake, Zuko sat up in his bed so abruptly that he heard blood rushing through his ears. His heart had already started a slightly-panicked, staccato tempo in his ribcage. She had just threatened him—with his life—not hours earlier, and he knew she had meant every single word. _Is she here to put an end to me, like she told me she would?_

He waited. When it was apparent she wasn't going to attack him, he cautiously pulled the covers back and got out of his bed. If he could engage her in a dialogue, maybe she would calm down a bit with the death threats, and maybe she would see he was truly trying, this time.

He took a few wary steps in her direction. She held up a hand from where she stood in the doorway.

"Stop right there," she said lowly, and he acquiesced. "Stay where you are."

Despite his apprehension at seeing her again so soon after she'd threatened him, part of him didn't want to frighten her away—or have her leave angrily as she had before. _If I have a chance to convince her I'm worth trusting this time, I'll try for it. _

"Okay," he responded quietly, meekly. He could see in her eyes that his attempt at humility didn't seem to satisfy her—she was still quite irate.

"You're a long way from being forgiven," she asserted coldly, the look in her eyes nearly making him shiver. "But I think you can show me some penitence for what you've done to both Aang and myself." She bit her lip, and the cold anger in the blue depths was suddenly replaced by something else—something he couldn't quite define, but that instantly intrigued him.

She folded her arms across her chest, feet planted sturdily apart. "Come closer. Just a few steps." He did, and stopped only a few feet away from her.

The look she gave him was hard. "Down on your knees."

He certainly wasn't beyond it, having already done so for the Avatar and the other members of Aang's group. Zuko knelt humbly before her, ducking his head slightly.

"_Promise me,_" she began, and now he could hear the emotive inflection in her voice, "that you won't hurt any of us. That you won't hurt Aang, ever ever again."

"I promise," he answered readily and more than willingly, his head still bowed.

"Promise me you'll protect the others when they need it. Especially Aang, and particularly the younger ones."

She didn't mention herself. "I promise." His words were still just as sincere, still directed to the stone floor.

She didn't seem appeased; in fact, by the sound of her voice, Zuko could swear she sounded more aggravated than before. "_Swear to me_ that you will uphold these promises," she continued sternly, and when he looked up at her face to assure her he would, he saw she was frowning. She still didn't believe him.

"I _swear_ to you," he said, his rasping voice low and calm, golden eyes pleading, "I will uphold these promises."

Katara bit her lip again, and his thoughts were derailed once more. He focused on her mouth, and the shape of it; inexplicably, he found himself wondering what the texture of her lips was like. With her eyes flashing and her cheeks reddened and flushed with a myriad of emotions, and her trembling form, and her mouth—

He stopped himself. She was speaking again, more quietly this time.

"If that's true, then I want you to do something to prove it to me," she said. And he thought in response, _anything._

Her hands moved from her chest to her hips, and she pointed one tanned leather-booted foot forward. "Kiss my boot to prove you mean what you say."

Zuko's lips dropped open in surprise, and his pride momentarily asserted itself. _What?_ "But…your boot is kind of dirty," he said in an attempt to reason with her, scowling slightly.

She glared at him. "_Do it._"

He took only a moment to think. _If it will make her believe me, then it might be worth the humiliation._ He leaned down on his elbows, his face to her foot, and held her boot in his hands, examining it to find a clean section; he pressed his lips against that spot and sat up again, looking up at her for approval.

To his chagrin, she switched her feet, bringing her other boot forward. "The other one, as well." _She's perversely enjoying this. _

Zuko frowned slightly, but complied and leaned down to kiss her other boot. When he looked back up at her again, Katara was watching him carefully with interest, her face thoughtful. The realization suddenly struck him that she really _did_ like him doing that, and it wasn't necessarily because of his humiliation at her hands. He felt something coiling in his gut at the thought, winding him tightly on the inside like a spring.

The look on her face changed as he watched her; she must have known she had given herself away. She stepped backward from him, just a couple of steps, and then she turned on her heel and moved as though to leave the room.

He didn't want her to leave. Not now—not when he felt he was close to winning her over, if he just kept trying hard enough—so he quickly devised a reason for her to stay. "Wait! I'll do more."

She stopped, turning. Her voice was taunting and defensive. "Oh, will you, now?"

"I'll do anything," he gushed, sitting back on his knees, his own voice husky as he lowered it. "I'll…I'll kiss you anywhere you want, if it means you'll forgive me."

Her face softened, her anger melting just a little bit. Zuko sucked in his breath, inwardly cheering his success.

But though her face and eyes betrayed her, her tongue was still sharp. "I'll just bet you would." She laughed; a short, prickly sound of scolding derision. "What makes you think I have any desire for you to kiss me anyplace besides my feet, anyway?"

He ducked his head wordlessly in response, not attempting to hide the glare that had crossed his features.

She waited a long moment, studying him carefully, her arms crossed over her chest once more. He knew she still didn't trust him, any further than she could throw him—but there was that spark of something that was definitely curiosity he'd seen in her gaze, that couldn't be disguised. There was no mistaking that for fear, or even anger or irritation.

Katara's lips twitched. Her hands fidgeted, and the question from her lips was somewhere between uncertain and suggestive, if such a place even existed. "_Anywhere?_"

A beat. "Anywhere." His glare lessened, and Zuko could feel his cheeks becoming hot, his internal furnace spiking briefly with lust as he looked up to meet her eyes again. _I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe __**she's**__ even __**thinking**__ of doing this._

After another moment, fiercely trying to hide her own blush, Katara walked across the room, passing by him on the way to his bed. She turned to seat herself primly on the edge of the bedspread, facing him. He shifted slightly to turn his body toward her, still on his knees on the floor.

She lifted her chin and one of her legs splayed forward in his direction; her water tribe robe parted to reveal its shape, molded by leggings and her boot, from shin to upper thigh. "My knee," she commanded him succinctly.

She wanted him to kiss her on the _knee,_ of all places. The coil in his lower belly cinched just a little bit tighter.

He felt his own moment of uncertainty, most likely voiced in his head by a flash of Iroh's wisdom—_you can't really undo certain things once they're done_—but he pushed it down inside of him and slid obediently over to her on his hands and knees, across the stone floor, holding her eyes as he did until he was kneeling before her as she sat on his bed.

Zuko sat forward and settled her ankle between his knees, straddling the boot she'd offered. He took the calf of her leg in his hands, lifting it slightly, and felt its muscles tense up in reflex. He wanted to whisper to her, to tell her to relax, but he was far too worked up himself to be of any guidance—he couldn't look at her face now, and he could barely keep his own hands from shaking with repressed excitement.

Consumed with winning her forgiveness, he lowered his head. He brought her knee to his lips, kissing it through the cloth, pressing them there for several long seconds. Katara was completely motionless at the touch, but she was looking directly into his eyes when he raised his head. He didn't even have to wait.

"My hand," she said, her voice still clipped, and held it out for him daintily, palm faced downward and tapered fingers spread.

And just like that his anxiety was abruptly gone, replaced by the insight that suggested he could assert his control with her anytime he wanted to. He was still bound to do as she requested of him, but she didn't have to have the upper hand in the situation. Zuko took the hand offered to him in his own, turning it slightly, and pressed his lips against the soft, fleshy part of her palm. The fragrance of her skin was like spring rain.

She audibly sucked in her breath at the gesture, her hand still in his. "Why did you kiss it like _that?_" she asked in a whisper.

He swallowed heavily to appear penitent. "Because I thought you would like it."

A pause. "Do it again." _Yes._

This time the kiss against her palm was open-mouthed, and he could taste salt on the inside of his lips. He heard the tempo of her breath changing, and silently regretted having her foot so near to his crotch; the slight pressure against it was growing uncomfortable. He moved his mouth against her hand again almost hungrily. He was sorely tempted to bite down on it, but he didn't want to frighten her.

Katara seemed as though she was having trouble catching her breath. Her eyes were bright. "My…ankle."

He stopped. "Not the boot, again," he argued, "I already did that."

She didn't seem to mind his defiance so much anymore. "Without the boot," she clarified, her voice breathy. _Ah…good._

Zuko sat back again on his legs, taking the knee he'd kissed, and gently pulled the boot off of her foot. She had white wrapping as a sock underneath, binding her ankle, and he removed that as well, noting a peek of white underneath the edge of her leggings at the top of her shin. "You don't leave anything uncovered, do you?" he asked, slightly amused, rubbing her foot in his warm hand as he did.

Her posture on the bed stiffened. "I am a proper maiden of the Southern Water Tribe," she announced haughtily, conveniently neglecting to mention the two-piece Fire Nation ensemble she'd worn recently; "and therefore, _no._"

"Right." His fingers smoothed along her instep, and he felt her calf tense. "That's why you're letting me do _this._" And he bent his lips to the inside of her raised ankle, covering the smooth skin with his mouth, sucking on it gently. She gasped.

He looked up at her from the task, and moved his mouth's attention to the arch of her foot. Her eyes closed, and Katara made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan; reflexively she tried to pull her foot back, but he held it fast.

"Not yet."

Zuko used his lips and teeth to scrape lightly along the instep, starting at her heel, following it with short flicks of his tongue. By now she was panting, mouth dropped slightly open in an unwilling combination of astonishment and need.

"_Zuko,_" she whispered, catching her breath, trying again unsuccessfully to pull her foot away. "_Stop._"

He spoke, muffled against her skin. "Stop what?"

She shook her head helplessly. "Stop…what you're doing to my foot."

He finally lifted his lips away, a trace of characteristic impatience on his face as he looked up at her pointedly from the floor. "You told me to kiss your ankle, so I'm kissing it," he reasoned. "If you don't want me to do it, tell me where you'd rather I kissed you instead."

She frowned, obviously not pleased with his factual logic and backtalk. "My elbow," she responded tartly, jutting out the body part in question.

Sitting forward again on his knees, he leaned in closer and took her proffered arm in hand. "Inside or outside?" he asked, deliberately lowering and quieting his voice.

"Inside," Katara replied, her own voice softening, and she eyed him again with that same vague expression of curiosity he'd seen earlier. He turned her arm slightly outwards, and pressed his lips—this time, chaste again—against the soft crook of her elbow. Despite her frostiness, he felt a slight shudder course through her.

He sat back. "Where next?"

She was somewhat at ease again, and Zuko felt he'd gained the edge once more. "…My neck," she admitted, rather reluctantly.

Now she wanted him even closer than before. He leaned in again, raising himself up on his knees, and she turned her face slightly to the side, arching her neck towards him in acquiescence and invitation. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek, could see her eyes up close, the colors changing and swimming into various shades of blue, from dark to light. The churning within them reminded him of the ocean's tide.

The only previous time he'd ever remembered being this close to her was—

_Right._ When he'd tied her to a tree, and was taunting her with her mother's necklace. And then, again, when they had been in the crystal caverns underneath Ba Sing Se, she had come close enough to touch his face…

It was no wonder that she had reacted the way she did towards him. She had been quite fearless, both then and now; it was admirable. She had proven herself to be his greatest opponent in battle. But now he needed her approval, her forgiveness, to feel as though he belonged with the Avatar's group—she being the only one he felt obligated to prove himself to—and he was beginning to question whether he deserved it, after all.

All of the times he'd ended up fighting against her, as her enemy, and she had done nothing but try to _help_ him. She had offered to heal his Uncle, after Iroh's injury by Azula. She had offered to heal his scar. And now she was offering him that most altruistic of sacrifices yet; herself. Suddenly Zuko felt very unworthy of the trust she was now yielding. _This is your opportunity to show her differently._

He braced himself with one hand on the bedspread beside her, as he leaned forward between her legs; with the other, he brushed a long lock of her hair from her neck. Something like tenderness came over him as he placed his lips gently below her ear, and pressed them against her skin.

Katara's head lolled; she exhaled a quiet sigh. He could feel a flare of heat emanating from her, sparking a similar reaction in his own body. The warmth between them must have affected her as well, because she turned her face to look into his as he pulled away. They were inches apart from one another. Suddenly his breath had begun to come faster.

"My mouth," she whispered, unbidden.

Without waiting another moment, he leaned into her and captured her lips with his own. The first crash of his mouth upon hers was frantic and desperate, as though he were drowning and she was his source of air; he held his need in check and managed to draw back slightly, Katara's lips following close behind. He felt her response against him and kissed her again, turning his head to the other side, moving his hands up to cradle her face. Her mouth met his eagerly, her lips parting at the insistence of his tongue.

"_Oh._" She sighed inbetween his lips, and then he felt her entire body melting under his touch, like ice beneath the sun. The sound she made roused him further—he wanted to hear her make it repeatedly.

Zuko worked at her mouth, slowly, tasting her, teasing her. When she leaned into him, he pulled slightly away from the kiss so that she had to follow; when she withdrew he pursued with intensity, angling his head further to reach more of her and gently running his tongue along hers.

Finally he separated his lips from hers, drawing himself back and observing the flushed heat of her face as he opened his eyes fully. A small string of saliva still connected them, like silk from a spider's thread, and he wiped it away somewhat awkwardly. Katara opened her eyes and looked at him, heavy-lidded.

Their breaths mingled. "Now where?" he asked in a breezy whisper, a smirk threatening the corners of his mouth.

A flash of recognition lit her face, as she realized the game was still on. She looked pensive and thoughtful, but only for a moment. "My knee," she answered quietly.

"I did that one, already."

She shook her head. "Not like before." Her lips pursed briefly. "On the skin."

It took a few seconds for him to understand the implication—but as soon as he did, Zuko was placing his arms at her waist, steadily unfastening the knot that held her water tribe robe in place. She jumped slightly at the sudden motion, but allowed him to undo it, shrugging it off of her shoulders as he pushed it aside. Her chest and part of her midriff were covered by white binding wrap, as was the rest of her from her navel to her knees, he imagined, underneath the leggings.

He grasped the waistband fabric of her leggings gently, and slowly began sliding them underneath her, over her hips—sure enough, she was wearing the white bandage wraps serving as long underwear, underneath. She gasped slightly and held onto his shoulders, as he slid the leggings down over her legs and tossed them away behind him. But when he hooked his fingers in the long underwear to do the same, she hesitated.

"Wait," she whispered, and he paused in his work, looking up curiously at her face. "I'm…I'm not sure about this."

Zuko gazed at her in surprise, and then wanted to smack himself in the head for not having paid enough attention to see it sooner. _She's a virgin. Maybe she's not ready for this, yet…maybe this is too much for her to handle all at once…_

But a part of him wanted it—wanted _her_—so badly, nonetheless, virgin or not, and he pressed on. "I promise, I'll go slowly," he whispered to her in his rasping voice, and she bowed her forehead against his as he spoke. "When you want me to stop, I'll stop. But let me just try."

She seemed to balk, still, and he whispered, "Please…just _trust me_." He knew how much he was asking from her with such a phrase, but he held out for the hope that she believed him.

Katara held her breath for a long, agonizing moment…and then nodded, biting her lip.

He tugged gently at her long white underwear, sliding it over her rump, and she lifted her hips slightly to let him slide it over her ass and legs, revealing her tanned skin. His gaze roamed over her bare thighs and hips, and settled at the spot inbetween her legs—but she drew her knees inward, self-protectively.

Zuko sat back on his heels again, covering both of her bare knees gently with each hand, keeping his eyes on hers to calm her. Slowly he drew them apart, inch by inch, as she watched from the edge of the bed. Her breath came in pants. Her fists gripped the bedspread, clenching tightly; he noticed her chest heaving, and through the makeshift bandages covering it he saw her nipples poking out against the white fabric.

He lowered his head again to kiss one knee, stealthily positioning himself between her legs once more, and she sucked in a breath at the warm touch of his lips on her skin. Moving his head to kiss her other knee, he ran his hand up the outside of her bare thigh. His next kiss was midway up her inner thigh, and she made a breathy noise of uncertainty mixed with arousal—a plaintive plea—and tensed at the touch.

"Relax," he whispered, stroking her outer thigh with his hand. "Slowly; I promise."

Her scent was driving him crazy. He moved his mouth to her opposite leg and kissed her inner thigh there, and before she could fully react he moved his head and pressed his lips between her legs, brushing past the short, dark, curling hairs to move against her hot outer lips. Katara moaned loudly and threw her head back, gasping for breath.

He shushed her. "You don't want Toph to hear you, do you?" he asked, his words muffled against her labia; and with a look bordering on distress, Katara bit her lip and shook her head. He drew her thighs carefully over his shoulders with his hands, settling her against his face, and parted her slick opening with his tongue as he took a long taste of her. Her back stiffened, her entire body going completely rigid as she cried out softly.

She was unbearably wet, and hot, and tasted better than anything Zuko thought he'd tried in his whole life. He used his lips and tongue to deliver long, slow kisses to her slit, feeling her quiver and shake beneath his ministrations, listening to her gasping breaths and stifled moaning sighs. She leaned backward on the bed's edge, sturdying herself with her hands behind her, unconsciously giving him better access. His tongue explored her, and touched the small, swollen flesh of her clitoris, just a quick swipe—and her body jolted like she'd touched a live wire as she gave a soft yelp. His mouth moved slightly away from that tender spot, moving down to kiss lower; but every now and then he revisited it, with gentle licks and probing nudges with his tongue.

"_Zuko_," she whispered, over and over; somehow the sound of his name on her lips now made him harder than he'd thought he ever could be. With the hand that wasn't gripping the blanket beside her, he stroked himself through his pants in an effort to relieve some of the tightening tension in his own body.

After several moments he raised his head, hearing her lamenting moan—_"Zuuukoo, __**don't stop**__"_—as he removed his mouth from between her legs.

"This might be easier if I were lying down," he told her, and she leaned forward again and lowered her legs from his shoulders to look at him, trying to grasp the meaning of his words.

"You want me…to…" Katara's breathless voice trailed off with her thought process, and she suddenly realized what he meant. Her eyes widened, and her next words came out as though they were a direct order. "Lie down on the bed."

Zuko wiped his face on his arm as he sat back on his heels; he stood up, relishing the bloodflow returning to his legs. He shrugged off the shirt he'd been sleeping in, tossing it aside and watching her approving stare with something akin to satisfaction. He put his hands to the waistband of his pants, and paused there, catching her eyes—when he saw her looking on with interest, he unfastened them and removed his pants as well. His cock stood proud and erect, jutting out from his lean and muscled form like it was chiseled from stone; and as he watched her gaze at it with surprise and fascination, he realized that this was probably the first time she'd actually ever seen one.

With a gentle smirk he stepped toward her as she still sat on the edge of the bed, giving his cock an experimental stroke for show. "Do you want to touch it?" She shook her head rather hurriedly, nevertheless mesmerized by it and not letting her gaze wander from it.

Zuko sat beside her on the bed, and turned to cup her face in his hand, bringing her lips to his again for a slow kiss; he was sure she could taste herself on his mouth and tongue. She returned the kiss hesitantly, growing bolder as it deepened. He interrupted it to slide himself backward to the head of the bed, resting his elbows on the pillows behind him.

Katara took that to mean it was her turn to shed clothing, and she stood up from the bed, facing him, slightly uncertain. She guardedly began to unwrap her breast-binding wrappings as he watched, baring her smooth tanned skin to his view. Her breasts were pleasingly ample, the nipples a tannish-pink that matched the color of her lips before he'd started kissing her. Finished undressing, she stepped back toward the bed, crawling onto it on her hands and knees toward him; and in his head, Zuko silently thanked Agni or whatever god that was up there listening that his evening had turned out like this.

She stopped halfway up his body, looking curiously down at his manhood beneath her; she touched it tentatively with her fingers, and he sighed in appreciation. She ran her hands along the shaft, her soft fingers feeling like feathery-light touches—and then she encircled it with her hand, firmly. His dick jumped slightly in response, and her eyes widened.

"It moved by itself," she noted in surprise, and Zuko fought to hold back an amused snort. "I can feel it pulsing, like your heartbeat," she said again, this time with wonder in her voice, and his expression softened.

He encouraged her with his hands to come to sit over him. "Come here." She complied, crawling up to him, and he pulled her forward by the hips toward his face so that her thighs rested on his shoulders. He teased her wet cunt gently again with his tongue, and she gasped and hesitantly bucked at the renewed sensation, pulling up and away from him shyly. Zuko firmly grabbed both cheeks of her ass, and pulled her back down to his mouth—meriting a half-surprised and half-pleased yelp from Katara.

Now he was more forceful, his lips and tongue probing; he licked and sucked on her clit, feeling it continue to swell under his touch, varying the intensity. With his hands holding her in place by her hips, she had nowhere to go but to endure the delicious torment, and he could feel her writhing above him, twisting in pleasure—trying desperately to keep her voice quiet.

He moved his tongue lower again, humming softly and quietly as he did—he felt it slide all the way between her lips, and this time he pushed it inside her, thrusting it into her. Katara gave a harsh cry, stifling the sound almost immediately after, and pressing her cunt against his mouth as far as it would go; and he began to do it rhythmically, alternating between gentle sucking on her clit and fucking her with his tongue. One of his hands had crept down his body and wrapped sturdily around his cock in the meantime, stroking it in time to Katara riding his mouth, but he was surprised—and pleased—to find that even as distracted as she was that her hand covered his, reaching behind her to grasp it firmly, moving it in the same tempo he had. He felt her body begin to shudder violently, her gasps having turned to soft cries of please…_oh, please…Zuko, __**please**__…_he willed her silently to be quiet, so that she didn't bring the blind little earthbender and the other members of the group running through his bedroom doorway, thinking that he was doing her harm.

He continued his motions until he felt Katara abruptly freeze, her entire body becoming rigid as she moved against his mouth, her lips halted open in a silent shout of pleasure. He was glad that she'd heeded his advice regarding the sounds she made—the noise she made now was a soft, high-pitched cooing, sounding eerily familiar to his ears like the mating calls of female dragon-hawks. She arched her body away from his mouth, flesh suddenly too sensitive to his tongue's touch; but he held her fast, and lapped with an unhurried greed at the juices coming from her as she trembled and shook with aftershocks.

Katara fell forward over him limply, barely supporting herself on either side of his head with her hands, still quivering.

"Are you alive?" he asked as he pulled his face away from her, his voice tinged with quiet sarcasm.

She looked down into his eyes from where she hovered over him, breathing heavily, giving him a secret smile before nodding. "Yes…I think so."

She looked at her hand that had been stroking him during the entire time—leaving him still achingly hard, and unsatisfied—and she seemed surprised to see a clear, sticky fluid covering it. "It's what happens when I'm really excited," he said by way of explanation. He watched as she lifted the hand to her face, her pink tongue darting out to taste it, and his eyes dilated with desire.

Before he knew what she was doing, she was lowering herself back down his body, having recovered her breath, stopping with her face at his crotch. She cradled his stiff, smooth cock in her hands, rubbing it firmly, sliding her fingers over the moist head and watching him carefully as she did. Zuko couldn't stop himself from groaning as he closed his eyes at the sensation.

Apparently emboldened by his response, she lowered her head to lick hesitantly at its tip, tasting his fluid. Zuko watched, gasping, and his hips bucked gently upward. She took the motion to be encouragement for more, and took the head completely into her warm mouth.

One of his hands entwined in her long, loose hair, tightening his grip in measured increments as his cock disappeared into her mouth. Her name was a plea as well as a warning. "_Katara,_" he whispered, his breath hissing past his teeth.

She lifted her head away suddenly and scooted upward, straddling his hips as she carefully positioned herself over him. Zuko released her hair, his mouth open in shock. Of all things, he hadn't expected _this._ "Are you sure?" he whispered, feeling a spike of apprehension at having to cause her pain; but she nodded, insistently.

"I want to make you feel good, too," she whispered in return. "It's only fair." And then she adjusted him with her hand, finding and maneuvering him into the right spot—and the next thing he knew she was lowering herself onto him, inch by agonizing inch, and he was sinking into her slowly.

His hand gripped the bedsheets for purchase, the other at her hip. _Oh, __**shit.**_ She was tight, _so very tight_—but as he watched her face carefully there was no blood or pain for her, as far as he could tell, and she was so hot and slippery and wet that his cock seemed to just _glide_ into her without tearing her.

It felt amazing.

It was a tight fit, though, and she bowed her head in an effort to adjust. Zuko held her in place at her hip, stroking her hair gently as it fell over his chest like a soft curtain, breathing slowly and whispering soft words of encouragement to her. He could feel himself pulsing inside of her. Katara was quietly panting, her face flushed and registering exhilaration; one of her hands moved to grasp his at her hip, and his fingers entwined with hers.

He'd had sex before, but not like this—not with a virgin girl whose trust he'd worked so hard to earn, whose full trust he had _yet_ to earn…not with someone he'd fought with, bravely, on a battlefield. Not with someone who felt like she _knew_ him, inside and out. This was, he felt, the closest he'd ever been to anyone in his entire life.

Finally after a few moments he began to feel her starting to relax her muscles around him. He moved his hips experimentally, in a gentle rolling motion, like a wave; Katara arched her back, and moaned rather loudly at the sensation of him sliding part of the way out of her and then sliding back all the way in.

"Shhhh," he reminded her, gritting his teeth as he struggled to maintain his own desire in check. He shifted his attention to her breasts, cupping them in his hands, feeling their silky-smooth texture. He drew the soft pads of his thumbs over her hardened, pebbled nipples, fingers moving to pinch them sharply, and she gasped anew. When she was sufficiently distracted he moved his hips again slowly, the pleasure of her tight cunt gripping him so great that his eyes nearly rolled back into his head.

She was quiet as she focused on his movements and tried to mimic them, raising and lowering herself over him so that he moved inside her—and eventually she caught on to the rhythm of his motions, rocking against him when he moved up to meet her. She did this again and again, lifting and falling against him, to both Zuko's chagrin and delight.

He held fast to her hip with one hand, attempting to slow her movements slightly. "That's good," he whispered, biting his lip and smothering another groan as he felt her muscles milking him.

Katara's face was alight with pleasure and realization. She arched her back further, squeezing his sides slightly with her knees. "It's just like riding the buffalo-yak at the North Pole," she informed him; this time Zuko had to stifle unexpected laughter. She was obviously proud of herself for having put the connection together in her mind. Strangely, he found he didn't really mind being compared to a shaggy, Arctic beast of burden, after all; he'd always had a strong work ethic, at least. _Maybe that's a good analogy,_ he thought.

He'd stifled the laugh, but he couldn't help the smile that escaped to dance across his lips. _This waterbender is __**crazy**_, he decided, but it was a good crazy—fearless, forgiving, _fucking_ crazy. She saw his smile and returned it with one of her own, resuming her movements with renewed vigor, this time leaning forward and gaining leverage with her knees.

The humor between them was forgotten a moment later, as Zuko felt his pleasure spiking uncontrollably with her muscles clenching around him. "S-slow down," he whispered, feeling the telltale tightening of his body, "you need to slow down, a bit."

Katara moved with determination. "Not yet, not yet," she whispered back, her features flush with delight. "Just a few minutes more."

He gritted his teeth. "Katara, _stop_," he whispered, "_I'm going to come._"

"You can't…don't come yet," she pleaded breathlessly. "You're to do what I say, remember? _Don't come yet, Zuko._"

It figured she was choosing to assert her authority again, right when she had him where she wanted him. He could barely hold the rushing tide within him back, biting his lower lip so hard it nearly bled, one of his hands gripping the blanket beneath him and holding on for dear life as she rode him. When he could finally take no more and felt as though he was about to go insane, he growled and reached up for her, pulling her body down against him.

"Zuko, wha—" she started to protest, as he held onto her and rolled them over so they were still joined, she on her back.

He hooked one of her legs over his elbow, holding her upper arms down against the bed forcefully with his weight of his hands, as he withdrew his cock all the way before plunging it again roughly inside. She shrieked with pleasure as he began to fuck her with a new and furious rhythm.

"I _told you_," he panted between thrusts, "to slow down…but you _didn't listen, Katara__._" He plowed into her relentlessly, gasping, feeling her muscles clenching, feeling his balls tightening in inevitability. He was lost to sensation, only barely registering the fact that Katara was still practically shouting in delight with each thrust. He quickly clapped one of his hands over her mouth to silence her.

She bit down hard on his fingers, her wet sheath starting to spasm uncontrollably around his cock—and that was when Zuko lost it, leaning down to sink his teeth into her neck in a moment of sheer madness. He stifled his own shout against her skin as he came hard, hearing her own cries of completion muffled by his hand, feeling as though he was emptying himself into her forever, over and over, never ending. He collapsed into her spent and gasping, feeling her still contracting around him.

They spent several moments tangled up and breathless, waiting for their combined pleasure to completely subside, sneaking glazed and half-lidded glances at one another. As he felt himself slipping slowly from her body, he could feel their combined fluids sticky between them, and—

"Oh," he whispered hoarsely, in sudden realization. _Shit._ "I didn't mean to do that…I should have pulled out—"

"No, it's all right," she whispered back, knowing exactly what he meant before he'd even clarified. "I can do this—watch."

With a wave and push of her wrist, she directed his seminal fluid out from inside her. He watched, fascinated, as she bent it away from them and out the window of his bedroom.

"Where's that going to land?" he asked curiously, thinking such a spot on the ground would look suspicious the next day. Katara's giggling was contagious, and he turned back to her with a soft smile. "You can do that with any bodily fluid?" he wondered aloud, in awed admiration. "Even blood?"

Her face suddenly darkened like a storm cloud, and Zuko instantly wondered what he'd said wrong. "Yeah. Blood."

They lay together for several moments in his bed, simply studying and looking at one another, before Zuko reached for her gently and drew her to him. To his surprise, Katara wormed suddenly out of his grasp and went to get up out of bed. She began rifling around on the floor, reassembling her clothes; Zuko reclined on his elbows and watched her silently in confusion, his golden eyes questioning.

"You're not to speak of this to anyone in the group," she warned solemnly as she dressed, "provided Toph hasn't already found out by hearing us." He said nothing in reply. When she had fully dressed she turned to face him again, and the stern mask of indifference that she'd worn earlier was firmly in place. He felt his heart sink.

"I don't think I've fully recouped my deserved penance from you, yet," she went on, business-like. "I think I'll need to continue this punishment with you, tomorrow, as well." Despite her tone, Zuko could hear the carefully-concealed yearning and desire behind it. "So make sure you're prepared for it."

She straightened her back before turning on her heel and leaving the room, believing her dignity to be intact. Zuko allowed himself a smirk as soon as she was out of sight.

_The punishment would continue tomorrow, as well._ Oh, yes—he'd make certain that he would provoke her enough the next day to fully warrant a repeat performance of his 'penance'. _Let her insult me all she wants during the daylight, in front of her friends, _he thought; he would make certain to take it out of her after dark, extracting his own version of atonement from her more-than-willing body.

Tomorrow night, he surmised, he would put her over that chair in the corner of his room, and he'd grab onto her luxurious mane of hair, twining it hard in his fist, and fuck her from behind…

Zuko sighed as he settled back into bed, his arms behind his head, and drifted off to sleep happily anticipating the next evening.

***

Somewhere, in a far wing of the Western Air Temple, Toph had her fists in her ears as she gnashed her teeth.

"I fucking _hate you guys._"


	2. Repentance

**A/N:** Continuation of "Absolution". Rated M, during and-post- episode 313 (The Firebending Masters).

There's quite a bit different in this chapter than was originally posted in Livejournal—edited dialogue in some scenes. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass._

-George Herbert

* * *

** repentance**

_meaning: regret for sins, compunction_

* * *

The next morning, Katara was aware of the worst feeling of aching soreness she'd ever experienced in her entire life, as she awoke in her own bed after dreaming she'd spent the night in another.

It hurt to stand. It hurt to sit. It hurt to lie down.

She took her time bathing in the warm water of a private bath area adjacent to her room, soaking herself for half an hour—until the water had lost most of its heat—and letting it flow gently over her legs and between her thighs. As the water moved according to her will it took on a slightly hazy gleam, and seemed to shimmer as it moved intimately over her tender flesh, soothing her muscles like a balm.

This was not an injury from a battle. _Strangely, though, it feels that way._

The ambivalence of her own feelings startled her. There was a stab of guilt, of course; she was now no longer pure, as a young maiden, by Water Tribe standards. It had been her responsibility to maintain her virginity until marriage, as was custom. Hakoda would be beyond livid if he found out. Alongside it was the vague taste of regret that slid down her throat, and pooled tightly in her stomach.

_Just who is providing penance here; him or me?_

But there was also at the same time an inexplicable feeling of euphoric triumph, at having discovered just how pleasurable such escapades actually were. The women's knitting circle discussions, around the fire in the South Pole, had never gone into such delicious detail as to how said pleasures were to be achieved; only vague descriptions of kisses and caresses. Katara now felt as though she was in on the best-kept secret of womanhood—that sex was _fun_, that it was terrifying and exhilarating and tender all at once, but most of all that as a waterbender, she would be able to control conception and not have to worry about pregnancy until she was good and ready.

_Of course,_ she realized, _that's the least of your worries right now. You just had sexual relations last night with the Royal Prince of the Fire Nation._ She sank lower in the water, letting it cover her up to her nose.

A half-hour later, nowhere less confused but with her soreness eased, she exited the tub. She dressed and made her way into the center of the temple to begin breakfast once more for her makeshift family.

-o-

-o-

"Good morning, everyone," she greeted the group, with a slightly forced cheerfulness; Haru, the Duke, and Teo looked up to bestow smiles in return. She went immediately to the cooking pot to begin the morning meal.

Toph turned her head in her direction as Katara approached. "Oh _hi_ there, Sugar Queen," she drawled casually, a wicked smile crossing her features, her usually vacant seafoam-colored eyes taking on a devious glint.

Katara was instantly on guard. "M-morning, Toph," she replied uncertainly, busying herself with food preparation. "Did you, uh…sleep okay?"

"Actually," came the reply, "it's _funny you should ask,_ Katara." The waterbender gulped.

Toph continued gleefully, "I almost couldn't sleep a _wink_ last night. So many _noises_ kept waking me up! It was almost as though there was some kind of loud, screeching, rough-and-tumble fight going on somewhere in the temple!" The other kids' heads popped up in confusion and curiosity.

Katara laughed, a weak and nervous sound. "Heh heh, yeahhh…must have been some animals fighting, then?" she suggested, trying desperately to keep both a grimace and a blush from her face. _Keep calm. She might be bluffing. It's possible she might have heard something last night, but even if she did, she wouldn't know who was doing it, or what it even was, right? She's too young to know that kind of thing!_

Then again, this was Toph she was talking about.

"If that's true, I wonder what kind of animal it was?" Toph postulated, still smirking. She was obviously enjoying this immensely.

"Maybe it was a jackelope?" Teo suggested. "They're native to this area, I think."

"Maybe it was a mooselion trying to _eat_ the jackelope!" the Duke suggested, his eyes bright with excitement. Toph kicked back against the stone wall, her hands behind her head, still grinning wickedly.

Even Haru was interested. "Maybe it was a—"

"OH LOOK! Breakfast is almost ready!" Katara crowed loudly, effectively silencing the discussion before it got out of hand. "Does anyone want to help me by picking some fresh ginger?" The distraction served its purpose and Toph chuckled to herself quietly, momentarily subdued.

Ten minutes later, Sokka—last to awaken—came in as Katara was dishing out the bowls of food. He yawned and stretched dramatically as he strolled into the middle of the room. "Mornin'," he mumbled blearily to the group at large.

"Nice to see you're finally up," Katara quipped, to which her brother shrugged in response. She looked around briefly. "Has anyone seen Aang or Zuko? I can't believe they'd both be sleeping in this late, as well."

Toph laughed out loud at the suggestion. "Are you kidding? _No one_ sleeps as late as Snoozles. They're out practicing their firebending in the upper level of the temple."

"Oh." Katara was a bit surprised, as well as slightly miffed for some inexplicable reason that she didn't want to dwell on. _I guess Zuko wasted no time at all this morning, getting right down to business._ She fought to keep the hardness from her voice. "Well, I hope they come back soon, before their food gets cold."

"You know Aang," Sokka retorted, still yawning, "when he smells the food, he'll be here faster than you can say, 'Did some—'"

"—Someone say breakfast is ready?" The young monk blew into the room with a gust of air on his glider, much to the group's amusement. He promptly landed and dove straight for a bowl of food. "I'm _starving!_ Sifu Hotman and I have been practicing all morning. Trying to firebend really works up an appetite."

"I'll just _bet_ it does, and not necessarily for food," Toph smirked, nonchalant. Katara choked on her soup, and her brother eyed her with a measure of concern.

Aang looked at the earthbender quizzically. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing!" Fiendish cackling ensued.

Zuko followed in at a leisurely walk, sweat evident on his brow and its sheen visible on his neck and collarbone where his open tunic revealed skin. His dark hair was mussed. The practice had obviously been strenuous. Katara watched him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, careful to not draw attention to her observance of him; she noted to herself that the look on his face bordered on irritation and disappointment, not the calm serenity that she knew from experience usually came after a hard workout.

Was it frustration with Aang? With firebending? Or was it something else….

_Why should __**I**__ care what's bothering him?_ she asked herself suddenly, her irritation with him flaring up again to drown out the inner voice of the nurturer. To her dismay, she found she had no answer to her question.

He came to her to take a bowl of food, and she placed it down on the ground in front of her, looking away—anywhere but in his eyes—as she did. He paused, for what seemed like a long moment, before he bent to pick up the dish and took it with him to the opposite side of the low-burning camp fire. Katara tried not to watch him as he crossed his legs and sat and began to eat.

"I thought Teo and the Duke and I would go exploring today," Haru announced to no one in particular, as he finished the dregs of his porridge. "This temple is huge, and there's a lot we haven't seen of it yet. There might be some secret or hidden rooms, or something! Maybe we can even dig up some information about the airbenders that lived here?"

Aang's smile was bright. "That's a great idea! I'd probably be a big help if you came across any Air Nomad writings or scrolls or something; maybe I should go with y—"

"_No._" In the small gathering room, the Fire Prince's stern voice held an echo. "We need to practice more, later this afternoon. Remember?"

There was no disguising the annoyance in his words, and the young monk was instantly silenced, ducking his head slightly. A momentary hush fell over the rest of the group. _Maybe it __**is**__ the firebending that's frustrating him,_ Katara realized. She stirred her soup thoughtfully. Perhaps that was why he'd felt such a need to get an early start that day, without greeting anyone beforehand, like he was ashamed, or embarrassed, or had done something the previous night that he now regretted…

Suddenly Sokka turned to his sister and eyed her carefully. "Katara—what is that on your neck? It looks…it almost looks like something _bit you?_"

Katara froze; she could feel the blood steadily draining from her features. The others had turned toward her to stare curiously in her direction. "…Something bit me?" she repeated, as feebly as she could, and brought her hand to one side of her neck protectively. A few feet away, Toph dissolved into quiet snickering.

Sokka, his mouth full, waved with his chopsticks. "Not that side—the other side." He leaned in her direction and cocked his head to get a better look at it. She glanced at the opposite end of the fireside to witness the corners of Zuko's mouth quirking upwards as he fixed his gaze into his soup bowl, and the blood came quickly rushing back into her face, searing her cheeks with a burning, humiliating flush. _Oh shit, he didn't_—

"It's really bruising quite a bit; it's almost purple," her brother noted objectively. Now even Haru and Aang were getting up to come over to look at it. Toph's quiet snickering had somehow morphed into loud, raucous laughter.

Katara jumped to her feet and rushed out of the room. "I'm going to go heal it—be right back!"

She ran down the open-air hallway to the water fountain and plunged her hand inside, coating it with a glowing glove of healing before wrapping the hand around her neck. As she felt the water's transformative effects begin to take place she could feel her heart pounding fiercely in her chest.

_He marked me, last night…I can't believe I'd forgotten it._ She recalled the fact that it had happened right after she'd bit down on his fingers when he covered her mouth. The moment her teeth had cut into his flesh—and then his into hers—she'd lost control of herself completely. They really had behaved like wild animals; it should have been shameful.

But Katara thought of his smirk from across the campfire, and shame was surprisingly nowhere to be found.

-o-

-o-

She didn't see either Aang or Zuko again until dusk. She hadn't asked, but Sokka reported they had still been training on an upper level of the temple when he'd last seen them. The knowledge that the Fire Prince was doing what was requested or expected of him didn't serve to lessen the knot of anxiety inside her that was slowly turning into annoyance. He still hadn't even spoken to her the entire day.

She busied herself with mending a pair of Toph's spare pants—how the girl managed to get holes in almost every piece of clothing she owned was beyond Katara's comprehension—and cleaning Appa's saddle, and eventually moved on to preparing the evening meal. They'd managed to scrounge up some picken meat the other day, and with the sparse leftover spices from their dwindling food supplies, she was able to make a stir-fry with herbs and fresh vegetables. It was a more extravagant meal, and definitely didn't stretch as far—but it was a pleasant change from the soup and rice porridge they always ate.

She was finishing it up as the group returned from their daily activities—Zuko and Aang from firebending, Haru and the younger boys from scouting, and Toph and Sokka only doing who knew what…_probably getting themselves into trouble_—and the smell of the food alone seemed to draw everyone in to the temple gathering room. Aang rushed in immediately, followed by Sokka, Toph, and the rest; only Zuko, she noted, stayed back at the fringes of the group. He seemed to be purposefully distancing himself.

"Wow, what's the occasion, Katara?" Sokka asked, happily devouring the food. "It's not every day you make a dish like this." He wolfed down a piece of picken meat and exhaled around it, fanning his mouth as tears started to form in his eyes. "Ahhh, 'ss spicy, too!"

Katara toyed with her own chopsticks. "No occasion. I just thought we could eat something with a little more…_heat_ to it, for once, I guess." She made a point not to glance at the sulking Fire Prince in the shadows, even furtively.

When Zuko did finally approach them at the fireside, as she'd been waiting for him to, it was not to extol the praises of the meal she'd made but to deliver a solemn announcement. "I have some bad news," he said tersely, bowing his head. "I've lost my stuff."

Toph held up her hands. "Don't look at me! I didn't touch your stuff."

His lip quirked as though it meant to form a smile, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "I meant my firebending. It's gone."

Having expected a very different sort of conversation, Katara couldn't help herself; she threw back her head and laughed. She tried stifling the remainder of it behind her hand, but it was too late—Zuko was glaring at her. She looked up at him and quickly formulated an excuse, albeit a bitchy one. "I'm sorry, I'm just…laughing at the irony. You know, how it would have been convenient for us if you'd lost your firebending a long time ago?"

"It's not lost. It's just…weaker, for some reason." He'd directly contradicted himself. There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and Katara pounced.

"Maybe you're just not as good as _you think you are._"

His glare deepened, and he fixed her with it as he spoke his next words. "I'll bet it's because I changed sides." She heard his unspoken message between the lines. _Maybe you don't know what you're talking about. Maybe this is __**your**__ fault._

Katara bit her lip, and refrained from saying something even more volatile. "That's ridiculous," she seethed quietly, her face reddening, and busied herself with her bowl of food once more. There was absolutely no way that _she_ was the cause of this—_not in a million years._

"Maybe it's not ridiculous," Aang piped up, in a moment of lucidity. He didn't seem to notice her blush. "Zuko's firebending has always seemed to have been fueled by rage and anger before. Maybe he's lacking it right now."

"Sooo, all we need to do is piss him off, then, right?" Sokka chirped, and jumped to his feet. He began poking the Fire Prince playfully with the blunt end of Aang's gliding staff, first at his ribs, then at his head.

_Piss him off…I bet __**I**__ could manage to instill some rage in him,_ Katara thought. She felt the inexplicable urge to punish him for something, anything, even if it was something she was guilty of as well. Anything as long as it provoked a response.

Sokka was still poking at him, and she could see that it took a great deal of Zuko's patience not to erupt in anger. He seemed to be keeping a sufficient handle on it until he looked over in her direction again; then his face crumpled in frustration, and he smacked the staff aside. "Knock it off!" Sokka ducked at the outburst and covered his head protectively.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose as though to relieve some imaginary headache. "Even if it _used_ to be fueled by anger—I don't want it to be, anymore. There has to be another source for it."

Toph interjected and began talking about the source of earthbending, and Katara unconsciously tuned the conversation out. She ate sullenly, attempting to hide behind her dish while watching him with an almost irritable caution.

So that was the reason he'd seemed so tense the entire day. It wasn't because of their actions the night before, or any uncertainties of where they stood with one another, or anything relating to the two of them, at all—it was his firebending he was concerned with, and only that. _And rightfully so,_ she reminded herself. _Have you forgotten he's Aang's instructor? Have you forgotten that the fate of the world rests upon whether Aang can master something that only Zuko can teach him?_

Still, he could have just _acknowledged_ what had happened between them last night; he didn't need to pick flowers or write love poems, but he could have at least showed her somehow that he was thinking about it, that it was something that had affected him, and not just a silly little one-time fling that wouldn't ever be repeated…

Her chopsticks froze on the way to her mouth, and her lips gaped at the thought. _Hold up. Wait a second. Who said __**he**__ was even __**remotely**__ interested in last night being repeated?_

It was _she_ who'd demanded it as she had hastily pulled on her clothes afterwards, and as he'd watched her wordlessly as he reclined on the bed, still naked. She hadn't bothered to linger to hear his answer on the subject, but at the time she felt it had probably been received pretty well; she recalled the way her body had still continued to thrum pleasantly hours after their encounter.

But what if Zuko didn't see it that way? What if he'd gotten what he needed, and now he couldn't care less about it? _He might even consider me a nuisance now, demanding 'penance' from him._ Their conversation just moments ago, punctuated with carefully-concealed barbs, served to reinforce the idea in her mind; Katara swallowed heavily and set her chopsticks back down in her bowl. Suddenly her appetite had diminished.

She looked up at the conversation going on around her, and realized that Aang and Zuko were talking of leaving to visit an old shrine close by that belonged to an ancient race of firebenders, the Sun Warriors.

"You're leaving? Tonight?" she asked abruptly, drawing the attention of the entire group, but not finding the will enough to care.

Zuko's features were firm. "It won't be hard to get there on the flying bison. We should be able to find it in a few hours' travel. We need to take care of this as soon as possible." He met her gaze, but he was having trouble keeping it.

"So, what," Sokka began skeptically, "you're going to go try to pick up some Sun Warrior energy just by going there and standing where they supposedly stood, thousands of years earlier?"

"Either I find a new way to firebend," Zuko deadpanned, "or the Avatar has to find himself a new firebending teacher."

-o-

-o-

It had already been dark for several hours when Aang finally leapt up onto the air bison's back. "Come on, Zuko, let's go! The sooner we get there, the sooner we can start our _real_ training."

She had been studiously ignoring both of them—Aang simply by proxy—since dinner, but Katara finally roused herself to go to them as they were preparing to leave. "Wait!"

She reached up to Aang from the ground, handing him the makeshift basket of food. "It should be enough for at least a day. I don't know how long you both will be gone, if it will just be overnight or not, but…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly as Zuko approached to stand close to her. "But…it should hopefully…be enough."

"Thanks, Katara," Aang chirped, happily oblivious.

Zuko was watching her with that intently penetrating gaze that made her somewhat uncomfortable. "Thank you," he said, quietly.

A part of her felt as though it were an icy wall, melting under his stare; she ruthlessly quelled the feeling and fortified her defenses. Her features hardened. "Just watch yourself and don't mess up while you're out there," she said sternly, adding under her breath so the airbender didn't hear, "Aang is _your_ responsibility, for now."

His eyes changed and his lips tightened. "I know." Then he was climbing aboard Appa, and with a cry of _yip-yip_ from Aang, they were taking off into the dark night sky.

-o-

-o-

She lay in her bed, counting the misshapen stone tiles of her room's ceiling—which was really supposed to be the _floor_ of her room in such a topsy-turvy place, but she decided not to dwell on the minute details of it—and wondered how much longer it would take her to sleep. Katara sighed to herself. It was going to be a long night, particularly when one was wrestling with one's own conscience to boot.

_It's just one night. Then they'll be back tomorrow, and then I'll have to talk to him, eventually._

For some reason this had been easier for her to ruminate on the previous night. Why did it seem so hard to talk to him, now? It wasn't as if things had been left awkwardly—they had both enjoyed the experience. They had both gotten pleasure from it. He hadn't said for certain whether or not he'd wanted it to be repeated, but…

_But why are you so concerned about it, anyway? He's Zuko. He's going to betray us all again, when he gets the chance._

He had proven in Ba Sing Se that he wasn't the most trustworthy of people, ready to turn on someone at a moment's notice if it served his purposes. Sure, he _seemed_ like he'd made the decision to side with them permanently, and he had defended them from Combustion Man; but what would happen when and if he was offered a better deal by the Fire Nation, again? Zuko had struggled with these kind of decisions before, as she had reminded him the previous night.

_Which was a couple of hours before you went back to his room later on, and fucked him._

The word alone, even in her head, made her shiver. It was a vulgar and coarse term, and never would she even _imagine_ using it in the presence of anyone else—especially not around Aang or Sokka—but it fit, in her mind at least, the description of what they'd done the previous night. _It __**was**__ fucking,_ she thought; _there wasn't any love in it…he encouraged me and showed me what to do, but __**I**__ was the one who took him inside of me. He let me have the control…and I fucked him._

Not for the first time since the previous night, she reflected on the fact that he'd essentially let her take the reins during their encounter. It had been strange, of course, and awkward at first…but then it had become liberating…and thrilling. He'd asked her where on her body she'd wanted him to put his mouth, and having been given the power to direct him where and how to do it was intoxicating. She'd never known that kind of control before, where it wasn't someone's health or nourishment, or safety, or the welfare of the group on the line—instead it had been solely about pleasing _her_, and her word had been final. _There. Not there—__**there**__. Softly. Harder._

Katara suddenly interrupted her own musings. _And here I am again, reliving those moments, thinking about him. Again._

_This needs to stop._

It was hard—very hard—to keep her thoughts clear of him, and to stave off her body's reactions to thinking of such things…but she had to. If he considered her a nuisance, if he didn't want anything to do with her after what they had done the night before, it was better to just forget everything that had happened.

_It's just as well,_ she thought miserably, as she tried to fall asleep. _He and I were born enemies of one another. Some things just weren't meant to change._

-o-

-o-

Katara came to realize that the next day was not going to be any easier to bear, by any means.

She stomped her way to the center of the temple, still groggy and half-delirious from lack of sleep. She snapped at Haru when he mentioned how exhausted she looked. She spilled some of the porridge she was cooking for the group's early morning breakfast, and fussed incessantly over it. The Duke regarded her with partly-fearful, partly-melancholy big brown eyes. He and the others kept their careful distances.

Except for Toph. Toph, who was probably the last person she wanted to deal with on such a day, wouldn't leave her alone.

"Sure was quiet here, last night," the earthbender remarked gleefully, her sarcasm not lost on Katara as she cleaned and rinsed the dishware with her waterbending. "Not like the night before—man, last night I couldn't hear _anything_ going on. Slept like a baby! I guess those animals that had been fighting must have resolved their differences, huh, Katara?"

Katara muttered something under her breath in response, and Toph, with her super-keen-extrasensory hearing, had the nerve to provoke her further—even going as far as to cup a hand around her ear. "What'd you say, Ice Princess? I didn't quite get that."

"You heard me. I said, 'that's good, Toph'."

Toph held up her hands in supplication at the building anger in Katara's voice. "Hey—no need to get all prickly, Miss Fussybritches. I was just pointing out the obvious."

_Oh—that does it, Koh take her._ Her water splashed angrily to the ground, the earthenware rice bowls falling suit with a _thump._ "_Look,_" she snarled, whirling on her, "I don't know what you think you know about what went on the night before last, but I can tell you right now, that whatever you're thinking couldn't be further than the—"

"I made him swear on his broadswords that he wouldn't hurt you," Toph offered casually, picking at a hangnail on her finger.

Katara's fury dissipated in an instant, mouth dropped open in surprise. "The—_what?_"

The blind girl shrugged, sighing impatiently as though Katara had forced her to reveal a much-guarded secret. "I made him promise me that he wouldn't do anything to hurt you, that's all. 'S not the end of the world or anything. You just don't have to worry about that, okay?"

Still too stunned to fully process the information, Katara blinked confusedly. "Toph, that's…that's nice of you…I think."

"Yeah, well," she scoffed sarcastically in response, "don't get _used to it_ or anything. I'm not always gonna stick my neck out for you. I just have to look out to make sure that the caregiver of the whole group doesn't get her heart stomped on and tossed away by some fire-wielding _idiot_…because then where would we be if you were crying your eyes out all day?" She waved her hand in the air nonchalantly. "Probably hungry and stuck out in a desert somewhere."

Katara frowned. "So did he say anything else, after you made him promise not to…hurt me?"

Toph smirked, hands behind her head once more. "Wouldn't you like to know." When Katara folded her arms impatiently, she went on, "Well, he did make the comment that he thought he owed you much more than that."

It wasn't what she'd expected to hear, and Katara considered the words for a long moment. "But…when did you—"

"And look, I _know_ it's really none of my business, but—would you mind keeping it down more, next time? You have no idea how loud you are. When Sparky tells you to be quiet, you _really_ should take his advice."

Now the waterbender sputtered in frustration. She turned beet red. "Wh—there's not _going_ to be a next time!" Taking a couple of breaths to calm herself, she started again, her resolve strengthened. "Toph, listen. I'm really sorry that you heard anything going on the previous night, but what happened between Zuko and I…it was a mistake. It's not going to be repeated."

Toph snorted. "Whatever you say, Sweetness." She didn't sound convinced.

"I'm serious. And…I'd like it if you could keep this a secret," Katara continued, "especially from Sokka—and Aang, for that matter—oh, just don't tell _anybody_ else about this, all right?"

"What, you think I don't know how to keep a secret?" The blind girl huffed indignantly, putting her hand over her heart. "For your information, Katara, I am an _expert_ at secret-keeping. You can trust me with your most sensitive information, and I swear I won't let it slip, not one word." She paused and added as an afterthought, "Just don't tell Hotpants that I told you about making him promise—I promised him I wouldn't tell, either..."

Katara groaned and buried her face in her hands. _I'm doomed._

-o-

-o-

She spent the remainder of the afternoon fending off the questioning glances from Haru and Sokka, and the later part of it saw her wandering around in the lower level of the temple near the group's sleeping quarters. She finally looked up at one point to find herself standing directly in the doorway of Zuko's room.

_How ironic,_ Katara thought crossly. She couldn't seem to get away from the firebender or reminders of him, even when he wasn't even present and accounted for. _Well, even though he's not here, it's not a crime to just go in there and look around._

She stepped hesitantly inside, pushing the wooden door open with a slow creak. His room was sparsely organized, as all of theirs were; they didn't have many belongings after having traveled on the back of an air bison for nearly a year, and she wouldn't have expected a banished Prince of the Fire Nation to either, for that matter. His spare clothes were neatly folded on top of a rustic-looking armoire, an extra pair of shoes neatly tucked away in a corner by the bed, and an empty scabbard—he most likely had one he carried on him—that normally would have contained his dual broadswords, hung over the back of the chair in the corner.

She went to the chair and ran her hands gently over the soft fabric of it, letting her fingers brush over the scabbard. The sheath was made of sturdy leather, smooth to the touch but it felt as though it were strong enough to withstand almost anything.

_Has it really been almost a year?_ she wondered absently, filled with a mild surprise. _It doesn't feel as though that much time's gone by…but so many things have happened, since this all started._ Nearly a year ago, the thought of Zuko joining the group—befriending Aang, and Toph, and her own brother—would have been unfathomable to her.

_And now, look,_ a shameful part of her reminded; _a year later, you're sharing the Prince's bed._ She shook her head briefly to clear it.

He had a single framed picture on his nightstand table by his bedside that she hadn't noticed two nights ago, and Katara went to it, picking it up and staring at it with curiosity.

She recognized the man in the drawn portrait immediately—it was his uncle, Iroh. They had met in Ba Sing Se, when he'd helped Aang free both herself and Zuko from being trapped in the underground crystal caverns below the city. He had seemed like such a kind, patient, understanding old man; it was hard to believe he was the brother of Fire Lord Ozai, and Zuko's blood relation.

_Zuko said he had betrayed his uncle, and Iroh was imprisoned for it. And now he has a picture of him, beside his bed?_ Katara wondered at the implications of it.

Perhaps he really did feel remorse for what he had done, and wasn't just telling them what they wanted to hear. Maybe he _was_ being honest with them. Maybe her demands of penitence were redundant…perhaps he was already putting himself through something much worse.

She set the picture down again and turned to his bed. The coverlet was still slightly rumpled from his sleep, but at least he'd made the effort to pull everything up in an attempt to bring some order to it. She straightened it unconsciously, her fingers moving over the coverlet to smooth out the wrinkles, before a sudden thought occurred to her—she leaned down over the pillows, barely touching her nose against the fabric, and inhaled slowly.

_Him. It smells like him._ Very subtle, but it was a combination of something vaguely spicy, some warm notes of jasmine—_probably from all of the tea he drinks_—and a faint whiff of smoke, from a clean-burning fire.

An unusual scent, but a very pleasant one. Katara took several more deep breaths against the pillow, closing her eyes as she did, her mind helpfully conjuring up his image to accompany it. At first it was just a hazy representation of him, but then her mind focused on his eyes—both his good one and his slitted, scarred one—and then his lips as he spoke, and his hands as he moved.

And then the image became his hands _on her,_ and his mouth on her, and her recollections from the previous night came flooding back with a vengeance. She felt the heavy pulse of her own blood begin to permeate her entire body.

_Oh._

Katara climbed upon the bed, dragging her legs over the soft comforter, and pressed herself face-down into it. She buried her entire face against the soft cloth and breathed deeply, surrounded by his scent. A paralyzing dizziness began to overtake her as her mouth became dry and between her legs became wet.

She couldn't escape the inevitable.

Her hands curled tightly in the coverlet she'd just straightened. She grit her teeth, grimacing. _Damn._

_**Damn you, you Angry Jerk!**_

-o-

-o-

Outwardly calm, she prepared the group's dinner as usual, taking care to provide each with their preferred meal requirements—extra meat for Sokka and Toph, no ginger for The Duke, extra scallions for Haru and Teo. When it had been all dished up she sat back on her heels amidst the circle around the campfire, and tried to determine what else she could focus her racing thoughts on. She wrung a washing cloth through her hands, distracted.

Sokka looked at her, and then at her empty food bowl. "You're not eating?"

Katara shook her head hurriedly. She couldn't have eaten if she'd tried. Her own stomach was already occupied with a knotted mass of anxiety, a rush of desire, and a heaping portion of guilt.

"It'll be interesting to see what happens when Zuko and Aang are back," Haru stated around a mouthful of food. "I wonder if they'll have learned any new techniques."

"Let's hope that _Zuko_ has, at least," Toph inserted in a knowingly sarcastic tone, and Katara's insides churned at the subtle innuendo. "Maybe something good that he can do with his _hands_?" The waterbender paled slightly.

"No way, that guy's a total disaster," Sokka scoffed. "He's gonna need a lot more work before he can be a teacher."

The Duke swallowed his food and spoke up innocently. "I think Zuko seems like a hard worker. He can probably get the job done, if he tries hard enough."

Katara shifted uncomfortably on her knees.

"I have it on good authority that he works _pretty hard_ at things, too," Toph replied, smirking. "He doesn't seem like the type to give up until he's sure the job is done, to _someone's_ satisfaction."

_That does it._

Katara rose, her hands shaking slightly, and addressed the group. "I'm—I'm going. To my room. Because….ah…because I have a stomachache."

She headed for the center of the temple, tossing a 'goodnight' behind her. Behind her, she could hear Sokka mumbling about how strange she was acting, and Toph's vicious snickering.

She made her way quickly to her bedroom in the far wing, and locked the door behind her with the metallic hook and latch. Katara was vaguely aware of the depravity of what she was about to do—that it was like he'd won, as though she were giving in to him again, just as she had two nights before—but she decided it didn't matter in the scheme of things.

Shedding her clothes down to her white wrapped long underwear, she crawled underneath the thin coverlet of her own bed and stretched her limbs appreciatively at the coolness of the sheets against her bared and feverish skin. She had never imagined she could feel so warm to the touch. From underneath her pillow, she drew a cloth pillowcase that she'd taken from Zuko's bed and hidden in her room for the remainder of the day; she crushed it to her face, burying her nose against the soft cloth and inhaling slowly.

Her heart was pounding out a frenzied rhythm in her ribcage, and she put a hand to her clothed chest to feel it. It was muted by the wrapping covering her breasts, and after a moment's hesitation she shrugged herself out of it underneath the sheet, tossing it onto the floor. Her hand returned to her chest, pressing against her skin to feel the vibration of her heart's tempo. The hand moved as her skin strummed, slipping across her sternum and curving around the swell of her breast, fingers brushing lightly over a hardened nipple.

Inhaling his scent deeply again, she closed her eyes; behind them, he was kissing the inside of the palm of her hand as she'd asked him to. His gaze when he looked at her was soft burnished gold in the dimmed light, his lips soft and wet. They moved stealthily up the inside of her arm, accompanied by his tongue, and she curled her fingers benevolently and gently in his tousled dark hair as they did.

Now her other hand was sliding down past her ribs, past the smooth flat skin of her stomach, stopping at the waistband of her long white underwear. She hesitated, but only long enough to slide the material down her hips, lifting her ass slightly to do so. Her fingers tentatively explored the brush of curling hair between her legs, and she gasped at the feeling as she ran the pad of a finger through the seam, parting her lips; she'd become so wet just thinking about him.

In her mind's eye he was the one doing the stroking. She imagined each look he'd give as he did, how his hair would hang in his face as he leaned over her, obscuring his eyes and partially hiding the pink skin of his scar; his teeth worrying his own bottom lip, in concentration.

Then her thoughts took a sudden and drastically different turn: now she was along a riverbank, seated with her back against a tree with her legs folded under her, eerily similar to the one where she had found the waterbending scroll…and she was in restraints. He had tied rope around her, but not only over her wrists; this time the rope covered almost her entire torso from neck to waist, punctuated in intricate knots that pushed and pressed on her flesh in various ways. Zuko was holding the secured end of the rope in one hand and cupping her naked breast, strategically bared through her bindings, in the other.

She began to stroke faster, fingers slipping over wet and swollen flesh. Her face felt hot.

Piece by piece he removed parts of her water tribe clothing through gaps left by the sturdy knots, teasing her as he did, assuring her she had no say in the situation and he would do as he pleased. He bared both breasts through the rope securing her to the tree, and he played with her nipples tauntingly—pinching and flicking them with his rough fingers—as she begged him for release.

She gasped, her fingers relentless.

He touched her through what remained of her clothing, fondled her as she was bound and helpless, only at the very last moving his fingers to stroke the slick wetness between her legs...

Katara's body seized up with what felt like molten waves of liquid-hot pleasure, and her vision went white.

-o-

-o-

Outside her window, morning had come. She blearily turned over in her bed, facing the light, and knew they hadn't returned home.

She rose and began the day again as mechanically as the last.

-o-

-o-

The other members of the group were not-so-strangely silent around her—they still feared her dark mood from the day before. Katara washed and cleaned for them, keeping herself busy, keeping her mind and body and fingers occupied, keeping her head just barely above water.

Now, she was worried about them. Now she wanted them back—both of them.

"Boy, they've been gone for a while, now," Sokka noted, stretching and scratching his stomach absently as he furtively watched his sister out of the corner of his eye. "I hope Aang and the Jerkbender are both okay." Katara tried unsuccessfully three times to respond to him with assurance in her voice; after the third try, she gave up.

That afternoon she went back to Zuko's room and spent hours sitting on his bed, not staring at anything in particular.

-o-

-o-

That night, they returned.

It was late, everyone having had long gone to sleep when Katara woke to hear Appa's soft, low groaning somewhere on an upper level of the temple. She leapt out of her bed, instantly awake, throwing her robe loosely over the white wrappings of her long underwear before sprinting out of her bedroom and out to the open-air balcony, hair tangled and feet bare.

Zuko and Aang had just dismounted and were wearily unpacking their supplies. They turned to her as she approached, and Katara could see the dark circles evident underneath both sets of eyes, gray and gold, making both faces long and drawn in the shadows of the temple.

"Where have you _been?"_ she demanded in a fierce whisper, looking from one to the other. "You've been gone for _three days!_"

"_Two_ days, Katara," Aang replied tiredly. "We were only gone for two days."

"We had a slight…setback for one day," Zuko finally spoke, the gravelly edge in his voice even more pronounced than usual from weariness. He looked her in the eyes and Katara held her breath. "I'm sorry we're late." Though his voice betrayed his fatigue, there was a calm and a peace of mind there that hadn't existed before. It quieted her.

She realized Aang was looking at her longingly from the corner of her vision, but she refused to turn toward him and kept her eyes locked with Zuko's.

"I'm just….glad you're back," she said, uncomfortably aware of what she was saying, and to whom. "I was worried." Her hands fisted nervously at her sides—she didn't know whether she wanted to embrace him or slap him, but she knew in her convoluted mind that touch was somehow involved. Instead, she wrapped the edges of her open robe tightly around her frame.

Aang was smiling at her as she finally broke her stare to look at him. "Katara, we have so much to tell you about! The Sun Warriors, and the golden egg that Zuko tried to steal, and the Dragons, and—"

_"Dragons?"_

"Tomorrow," Zuko punctuated, and Katara turned again to him in surprise. "We'll have time to talk about it to everyone, tomorrow." He nodded at Aang. "Right now we should get some much-needed sleep."

She was vastly disappointed with this statement. "…You're just going to go to sleep?" she asked disbelievingly.

"All of us should." He took both packbags and slung them over his shoulder. Katara felt rather than saw his eyes travel over her. "You look like you could use more rest, as well."

She bristled. "I'm just _fine_, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

He motioned to Aang; the young airbender followed him toward the interior of the temple, throwing bewildered glances back in her direction until even he seemed tiredly resigned to Zuko's orders. Katara was left on the balcony alone, blinking at their sudden departure.

Her confusion was slowly turning to aggravation. Had she missed something, she wondered? Did she overlook a sign, a hint—some sort of discreet signal that he would have given her, in Aang's presence? She replayed their exchange quickly in her head, and bit her lip in frustrated and thinly-concealed anger when she couldn't discern any.

_Fine. So that's the way he wants to play it. Far be it from me to be the one who comes crawling to him, after this._

On the way back to her bed she invented a mantra to discourage herself from going to his room, and she repeated it to herself over and over before finally surrendering to a fitful sleep many hours later.

-o-

-o-

She was less than prepared the next day for human interaction. Aang and Zuko had apparently slept wonderfully, and following a light breakfast were intent upon showing the gang what they had learned from the Sun Warrior culture.

They performed what Zuko had described as a series of complicated firebending moves they'd learned from the statues in the warriors' temple, meant to both increase firebending power and placate the two remaining dragons who had judged them. They lunged and posed, throwing their arms into the sharp movements and bracing themselves with intricate footwork. Katara watched the demonstration with a carefully frosted mask of indifference, intensifying her icy gaze into a glare whenever she turned it on the firebending Prince.

Sokka was in hysterics by the end of it, even as the others clapped politely. "Are you two _serious?_" he crowed, wiping his eyes. "We're just gonna waltz into the Fire Nation capitol and _tap dance_ our way to victory over the Fire Lord?"

"It's _not_ a dance, it's a _firebending form,_" Zuko insisted, scowling as he broke the ending posture and approached the group. "It's a sacred form that happens to be thousands of years old!"

"Oh yeah?" Katara asked snidely. "What's your little form called?"

Zuko started to grimace before she'd even finished her question. He looked as though he'd eaten a sour papaya. "…The Dancing Dragon."

The group broke into snickering laughter, and the Fire Prince's lips twitched and convulsed.

Then the Duke spoke up from behind Toph, twisting his hands together in uncertainty. "I…I kind of liked it," he confessed. "It looked like you really were dancing with a dragon." Aang and Zuko both gave relieved grins at the boy's admission.

"That's because we were," Aang offered proudly, and the Duke's smile broadened in awe.

"There were two of them; a red one and a blue one," Zuko continued, his gold eyes gleaming with excitement, "possibly a mated pair. Aang and I both believe what we thought initially was a gemstone is actually their egg…and if that's true, then they really haven't died out like I was afraid they had, after all. My great-grandfather's plan to eradicate them failed." He turned to look over at the airbender once more, and both boys beamed.

"Well, isn't that just lucky for _you,_" Katara spoke up, witnessing the Fire Prince's confidence quickly deflating as she did. Her voice was laden with ice. "Looks like your family is off the hook for at least one of the many extinctions they've caused."

The rest of the group gaped at her in surprise. "Katara—" Aang started, the beginnings of a frown on his face, but she wouldn't let him finish.

She realized she was raining on their happy-dragon-parade, but the angry, shunned part of her couldn't muster up the sensitivity to care. "What, so we're supposed to be _celebrating_ the fact that there are a couple of remaining dragons left behind that the Fire Nation didn't kill? What about the Air Nomads—_oh wait,_ there's no one left but _Aang!_ What about the Water Tribe people they've killed, and how they wiped out nearly _every last waterbender_ at the South Pole?" Her voice rose now, almost hysterically. _"What about my mother?"_

Aang was looking at her with something resembling horror, Toph was slack-jawed and even Sokka and Haru had bowed their heads. The Duke looked as if he were about to cry. Zuko's mouth opened and closed again, most likely trying to form words that wouldn't take shape.

"You think that just because you've joined the Avatar now and decided to teach him firebending that you can make everything right in the world, again," she raged at Zuko. "But you _can't!_ There are things your people did that are so horrific that they will _never_ be undone. No amount of firebending lessons or tea-making or _dancing with dragons_ will _ever_ make up for it!"

She was on her feet now. Instead of standing his ground and fighting back, as she'd thought—_no, hoped_—he would do, he said nothing and turned his gaze toward the ground, lips pressed tightly together. Her voice became snide again.

"Oh—but don't let me stop you from celebrating your _worthwhile accomplishments_. They're so important, after all. Maybe if you have enough of them, we'll just look the other way the next time your family decides to exterminate someone." She crossed her arms and stomped off, leaving the group to look after her, mouths still open.

But she heard Sokka, even as she made her way towards the temple's interior: "…Okay, is she gone? Is she gone yet?...is sh—okay, good. Zuko, show us the dance again; I promise I won't laugh, this time. I won't. I swear it."

-o-

-o-

She had managed to avoid everyone as long as possible, but by the late afternoon as the sun began its descent towards the horizon, she knew it was inescapable that she would have to prepare the evening meal.

_You have to go about this differently,_ Katara thought to herself, as she collected firewood above ground a short distance away from the temple. She recalled the devastated look on Aang's face when she'd insulted his new best friend and firebending tutor; she knew inside that she couldn't keep having such confrontations with Zuko in front of him. It would tear him up, inside. Aang wanted everyone to get along, and that especially included her, as important as she knew she was to him.

_He shouldn't see us fighting. It's not good for him. It might even interfere with his lessons and learning fire—_

Her thoughts stopped abruptly as she heard a twig snap on the ground nearby, and her heart instantly leapt into her chest. She'd thought she was alone.

Katara reached instinctively for the cap on her waterskin, but her hand wasn't fast enough. She found herself suddenly pinned to the nearest tree, face-first, firm hands on her wrists bending them behind her back. She turned her head halfway and smelled jasmine and the faintest trace of smoke. Her fright disappeared—replaced by anger and something else, winding tightly in the lower portion of her body. _Zuko._

His face was against her ear. His voice was a low growl. "That was some performance, earlier," he snarled quietly. "I'll bet you rehearsed that while I was gone, didn't you?"

"I meant every word," she answered sternly, yanking at her trapped wrists. "Let _go_ of me."

He held her fast. "So you could waterwhip me or bend my blood? No, thanks."

"_Zuko,_ let go of me, _right now._" There was ice in her voice that she hoped he was paying attention to. She didn't want to hurt him, not after what had happened between them two nights before—but she wouldn't be made helpless like this, either.

"I have half a mind to just tie you here, like this, instead," he went on, his voice a raspy purr in her ear. He switched her wrists to one of his; his other hand traced its fingers slowly and gently down her back, lingering over the swell of her hip. Against her will, his light touch made her shiver. Katara could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you liked that, before. I think you'd like it even more, this time…I know a thing or two about ropes and knots, and where to tie things more _tightly_—" the lips near her ear came dangerously closer, "—or leave a little bit of _wiggling room_…"

Involuntary flashes of her vivid fantasy two nights before invaded her mind. It took an exorbitant amount of willpower for her to turn her mind back to the situation at hand, but it was too late—she'd already imagined him doing such a thing to her. In detail. _And the worst part is that he's probably right._

"Get real," she spat, her face reddening, attempting to buck against him to push him away.

Zuko pushed roughly into her in response, still holding her wrists behind her but now pressing her into the tree with his body, her cheek mashed against the cool bark. His chest was nearly flush against her back, and now she could feel the evidence of his apparent excitement against the cheeks of her backside, even through her insulating robe. She gasped when she realized what it was, and wondered how the simple feel of it could render her momentarily speechless.

"You know," he spoke lowly, huskily into her ear, his lips brushing past her hair, "when you say those things to me, such as what you said this morning—laughing at me and taunting me, like you did—it doesn't hurt me like you think it does." He ground his erection against her ass as he spoke, and her breath betrayed her with a choking, gasping sound. "I'm used to adversity. I thrive on it. You know what it does?" He paused, as if he were giving her time to answer. "It makes me want this more. It makes me want to do the things we did a couple of nights ago, more." Again she could feel his smirk, as well as the hardness of his cock straining through his pants. "So if you're trying to drive me away, you'd better try harder."

_So he __**did**__ want it._ All along she'd been unsure that he'd wanted to repeat their encounter—but had he just been waiting for it, biding his time? Was Zuko, the son of Fire Lord Ozai, more patient than even she herself was? It didn't seem possible.

Regardless, she was angry with how he'd brushed her aside so quickly the day after their encounter, and upon his return; she wasn't a plaything for him to turn to when he had the time. He owed her more penitence and suffering, and there was no way in Koh's bone-filled graveyard that she was going to make it easy for him.

"_You're crazy,_" she hissed, trying desperately to channel her burgeoning desire into venom. "If you think I want anything to do with you at all anymore, you're absolutely _crazy."_

"Am I." He didn't sound convinced. "I see right through your demands for penance. I know what it is that you really want from me. And you're too _picken-shit_ to ask for it."

Katara was panting now, every nerve tense, fury mixed with fear mixed with the urge to allow him to enact whatever he was thinking. "And what's that supposed to be?"

His voice dropped to a menacing whisper as he punctuated his words with a barely discernable thrust of his hips. "Oh, I think you know; don't play the innocent with me." The whisper turned teasing. "Did you play with yourself, while I was gone?"

She barely had time to sputter indignantly in answer, before he asked further, "Did you touch yourself between the legs, imagining it was me doing it?"

Now her face was beet-red and her cheeks felt as though they were aflame. _How could he know that?_ "N-_no!_" she insisted hotly.

"No?" he teased. "You didn't slip your fingers down between your legs, at night, when you were alone—"

"Of course not!"

"—you didn't stroke yourself there…didn't make yourself _come_, thinking about what I was going to do to you when I got back?"

She hardened herself, tried to control the betrayal that was her body's response. "I didn't think of you _at all,_ Zuko."

As if in answer, he moved his free hand to boldly cup a breast inside her robe, stroking the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Liar."

Katara went rigid. _I am __**not**__ going to let him have control of this situation._ Taking a deep breath, she summoned all of the spite and malice she could into her voice. "_Get…your hands…off of me._"

A moment passed, and finally she felt him loosening his grip. He backed away from her slowly, giving her time to become acutely aware of the warmth of his body retreating from hers, and released her wrists only at the very end to prevent her from using her bending. When he had stepped away, she turned slowly to face him.

He opened his mouth to speak again—and that was when Katara struck him across the face in a hard, open-handed slap. Her hand hit his cheek just below his scar. The force of it knocked his face to the side, and in that deafening silence that followed he stood perfectly, deathly still.

She realized when he stood motionless, a faint red mark blossoming on his face below his scar, that this was probably not the smartest move she'd ever made; but it was only when he turned his face back to look directly into her eyes that Katara knew with certainty she'd made a mistake. She'd never seen such a look from him, not even during their most reckless bending battles. It was a dangerous combination of anger and apathy.

She'd wanted to piss him off, a bit. She hadn't intended to make him angry enough to forgo giving up his due. He _owed_ her that much.

_Shit. _

Without another word he left the clearing and headed back down to the temple's entrance. He didn't once look back at her, even as she watched him disappear from sight. She sighed, a sound of resigned dejection, and looked down at her feet. It was going to be a long night.

-o-

-o-

"MY MOUTH. IT'S ON _FIRE_. Katara, are you trying to _kill me?_"

Sokka had decided he didn't seem to like the culinary changes his sister had made to their meals after all—spicier stir-fry again, as she had a few nights ago—and was protesting loudly. The other kids made off-handed comments about the taste. Only Aang and Zuko remained perfectly silent as they ate their meal—the former satisfied that his dish had contained no meat, the latter simply having nothing to say. Katara looked at the Fire Prince several times and tried to meet his gaze, to no avail.

Finally he stood and left the group huddled around the circle of fire, bidding them goodnight. She tried with difficulty not to let her features pull into a frown in front of the others.

But as she cleaned up after the meal by firelight, she knew what she was inexorably going to do.

-o-

-o-

Katara still tossed and turned in her own bed, hours later and long after the kids had gone to their respective rooms to sleep. She'd waited for two whole hours, hoping he was going to come to her, even if it was in anger—even if it was to get back at her for what she'd done that afternoon—but he hadn't appeared. Eventually she roused herself, slipping on her blue robe once more and tying it around her, and quietly snuck out of her room.

Zuko's room wasn't close to hers; his was in the other wing of the temple's lower level, more isolated from the rest of the group. As she approached it she glanced at the underside of his closed door, looking for evidence of light to suggest he was awake. None.

She tried the brass handle, careful to not yield any noise while doing so, and to her surprise it was unlocked. Katara pushed it open and looked inside. On his bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard, was a dark figure she could just barely make out in the moonlight. It was so quiet she could hear his breathing.

"…Zuko?" she whispered tentatively.

There was a soft _whoosh_, and a flash of light—and suddenly he was holding fire in the palm of one hand. It illuminated his face and she saw that he was looking at her, still with the same expression he'd had after she had slapped him.

Katara drew a quick breath, not quite certain if he was about to attack her or not; she visibly relaxed when she saw him touch his hand to a candle's wick by his bedside before extinguishing his flame. She came into his room and closed the door behind her. He sat back against the headboard, arms crossed against his chest, staring blankly ahead of him.

"…Are you angry with me?" she asked. There was no answer. She came closer. "…I can kind of understand if you are. I reacted quickly…I wasn't prepared for what you did to me, earlier..."

Katara waited, hopeful. He was still silent.

"Zuko, please say something," she whispered, coming closer. "Talk to me."

"I have nothing to say to you." Neither the tone of his voice or a single part of his body moved.

_Okay,_ she thought to herself. _It's a start. At least he's talking—even if it's just to say he refuses to._

"You seemed to have a lot to say to me a few hours ago," she noted, gently trying to make light of the situation. Apparently _that_ wasn't worthy of eliciting a response, so she stopped, standing several feet away from his bed.

"Look, I…I understand, if you're mad at me. And I didn't really mean to do that to you—it was instinctive. And, to be honest, it wasn't even because of what you said or did to me, when you had me against that tree…it was because…" –here she stopped faltering, finally gaining her verbal footing— "because…you _can't_ just go and pretend what happened two nights ago didn't happen. Even if you're busy, even if you had other things to do—it's _your responsibility_, as the person who owes me penance for your wrongdoings not long ago, to make things right between us. It's not mine, it's _yours_."There. That would set things right with him.

Still, he was unresponsive.

Her temper suddenly flared again. How _dare_ he ignore her like this, after all he had done to her—having made her feel so anxious and upset, tormenting her with his tepid and lukewarm response, after the first time she'd ever done such a thing, with anyone—and then now, after she'd explained to him the responsibility he was shirking!

"_Fine_," she hissed angrily, "have it your way! If you want to just leave it like this, then _we will!_" She stormed out of his room like a squall, hair flying out behind her, intent on getting as far away from him as she possibly could.

Halfway down the corridor, she was already regretting her steps. _Oh spirits, who am I kidding,_ she thought to herself miserably, her eyes just slightly swollen with moisture. He'd made her feel something powerful the night before last, and despite the fact that this was supposed to be something _he_ was offering _her_, paying his way to forgiveness by tutoring her in carnality, she realized with disdain that she was the one who wanted. Maybe even needed.

She certainly hadn't anticipated having an appetite for this kind of thing.

She'd yelled at him to her heart's content, but by slapping him in the face she had overstepped the rules of the strange little deal they had going on between them. _Stomping out on him like this is only going to make things worse, and not for him._

Her obstinate pride now all but diminished, Katara made it as far as the end of the hallway before halting her steps, turning abruptly on her heel and marching straight back into his room. She could have sworn his scarred eye had discreetly flicked towards the doorway as she re-entered, but he was quick to correct it.

She went directly to his bed and stood before it, looking down on him almost imploringly. "Zuko, don't," she said quietly, grinding the words almost reluctantly between her clenched teeth. "Don't shut me out. I still want this. I still want to feel this."

She reached for him, leaning over the bed to do so, trying unsuccessfully to unlace one of his arms from the other. "I want you to touch me like you did before," she whispered, lowering and softening her voice entreatingly. She tugged at his sleeve. "I want you to kiss me again." She ran her fingers over his scarred ear, threading them through his hair, and she thought for just an instant she could feel him shudder. "I want you to touch me. Don't you want to touch me?"

Zuko stubbornly held his ground. Undeterred, she leaned in further, bracing herself on the edge of the bed with a hand, and moved to kiss his lips. He turned his head to deflect it. She kissed his cheek and the part of his jawbone she was presented with instead—and, after a slight hesitation, she angled herself and pressed her lips slowly against the mottled skin of his scar, just barely caressing it with her tongue.

That proved to be his undoing.

He turned to face her. Now she could hear that his breathing had become erratic, see that his eyes—both his slitted one and his good one—were glowing gold in the candlelight. He slowly ran his hands over what parts of her he could reach from the bed, traveling over her arms, her waist, her hips. He slid himself to the edge of the bed and fondled her over her clothes and between her legs, rough and unabashed, sliding his hand repeatedly in the dark crevice at the apex of her thighs. He bowed his head against the flat plane of her stomach in what seemed like intense concentration; Katara gasped and tangled her fingers in his hair. The change in him was so sudden.

She heard mumbling and realized he was speaking, his mouth pressed against her robe. "What do you want me to do?" she heard him ask in a quiet whisper. He looked up at her earnestly from underneath her breasts and stroked her cunt firmly again with his hand. "This? Do you want me to kiss you there, like I did before?" She bit her lip and nodded.

Zuko pulled at her robe and she allowed him, still standing, letting it fall open and exposing herself to him. His hands pushed aside material impatiently to get at her skin, tugging and unraveling, finally succeeding in getting her lower half undressed as he slid her leggings down over her hips and pushed them toward her knees. She took deep breaths to calm herself so she didn't shake in anticipation.

Then he stroked her again, slowly, deliberately, his bare fingers hot to the touch and sliding delicately against the wetness between her legs, and Katara gave a broken moan. She swayed on her feet as her legs buckled. He had to hold onto her hips to steady her.

He sat up, his legs over the side of the bed, and pulled her suddenly face down onto his lap, over his knees.

Katara nearly yelped as her fingers almost touched the stone floor. She struggled to remain upright. "Zu—"

"_Shhh._" He held her firmly in place, his hands warm and soothing as they explored her. "I just want to touch you like this."

She stopped wriggling. Despite the momentary surprise and vulnerability, she felt her mind being overcome by a lust-riddled haze. It was sort of a natural position for such play, she supposed—even if it was just the slightest bit awkward, almost like a misbehaving daughter pulled over her father's lap. She'd never been put over Hakoda's knee in such a manner, even when she'd disobeyed as a child; but now she found the idea appealing in some strange and perverse way.

She let herself feel his touch as it traveled lightly up the backs of her naked thighs and caressed the cheeks of her ass. He parted her legs slightly and reached underneath, stroking her wet opening with two fingers, and Katara arched her back willingly to give him more access.

"You like this, don't you." Zuko's voice was soft. She made a breathy sound of agreement. "You want more?" he asked gently. His fingers found her clitoris at the same moment, and her response increased in volume.

"I know you do. I'll give you more." His tender, almost paternal tone continued to soothe her and excite her at the same time, so that she was completely and totally unprepared for what he said next.

"But first, I have to punish you."

His words hadn't even registered before she felt the palm of his hand come down on her buttocks in a stinging slap. Katara yelped—more from surprise than anything else—and struggled in his grasp. He held her down with both hands, one forcefully on the back of her head.

"_Don't fight me._" His voice had changed from gentle and cajoling to lethally serious. "If you fight me or use your bending against me, I'll only make it harder."

She steeled herself, resigned, and she felt his hold on her loosen a bit. The next sharp slap to her ass came soon afterward, but she was ready for it and held back her sounds.

Zuko struck her again, more forcefully than before. "_I didn't say_ not to make noise. If I'd wanted it quiet, I would have told you to keep quiet." He smacked her again harder and she winced against the blows, biting her lip, trying desperately not to let him see her reactions.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, _but Toph will hear us_—and it was likely she already had—but did it really matter? Toph knew what had been going on when it had first started. Katara felt him striking her now with more vehemence, the pain to her backside intensifying with every stinging slap that seared her flesh, and involuntarily a muffled groan escaped her lips. Her buttocks felt as though they were burning under the punishment. _Surely his hand will get tired—or start hurting as much as I do—and then it will stop_, she thought with a feeble assurance.

It didn't. If his disciplining hand was in any discomfort, Zuko kept it completely from her; the only sounds that came from him were the strained breathing through his nose, and the occasional soft grunt as his hand made contact with her skin. His stamina was unbelievable. The spanking continued to increase not only in strength but in frequency, and her muffled groans soon became shouts of agony. Tears sprung to her eyes. _I can't believe he's doing this. __**Why**__ is he doing this?_

But she knew exactly why. She had shamed him in front of the others, and then with the slap when they were alone; she had pushed him too far. As much as he hadn't deserved her trust, he hadn't deserved her spitefulness, either. Katara felt the hot tears that had gathered in her eyes spill over her cheeks, her choking breath catching in a sob. There was no justification for the way she'd acted. She had acted like a bitter, _ugly_ person—not just toward him, but towards the others at so many times, as well. _I deserved this._

She began to cry, openly. Instead of resisting any further she allowed every strike to chasten her, to wash away the guilt and anger she felt over so many things. It felt like a release.

Then just as abruptly as it had started, it stopped—she felt him pulling her into his embrace even as she still wept, stroking her long, tangled hair from her face, kissing her forehead. He turned her over and spread her on her back over the bed, lying beside her and cradling her close with one arm under, kissing her face, his tongue snaking out from between his lips to taste the wet tears on her cheeks and at the corners of her mouth. When she had exhausted herself with crying and it had tapered off, he kissed her eyelids one by one until they were dry.

His hands instantly roamed over her as though he were blind and learning her by touch, massaging her breasts through her robe before stripping her of it so he could get at her skin, as well as discarding the clothing around her knees; fingers then between her legs, seeking shelter in the hot, damp curls—because she was still wet, extremely so, although she didn't consciously know why. Those deft fingers traced the outer lips of her cunt, aching and sensitive, and then slid upwards to caress the bundle of nerves at the apex. She felt it swell at his touch. "You're _wet,_" he whispered teasingly as he slid two fingers against her hot flesh, and she could hear the faint smugness in his voice as he stroked her in slow, lazy circles, making her shudder. "Still, after all of that, Katara?"

She couldn't muster up the will to snark at his confidence. He had gone to work on her bared nipples, alternately licking, sucking, and worrying them between his teeth. Katara lost herself in the thrilling sensations, even as her hips vacillated between baring her sore backside to the harsh material of the comforter below her, and yielding further access to her sensitive slit to the hand above her; each one caused her torment.

She was close, _so close_. Every movement and touch of his brought her closer to the edge of that precipice, that hurdle she longed to clear. He rubbed her slickly now with two fingers on either side of her clit, the pad of a third fingertip stroking it directly—and suddenly her hips were bucking uncontrollably, her entire body locking up in delicious spasms, her loud moan swallowed up by his own hungry mouth.

How it had happened so soon after he'd spanked her bottom until it was red and raw was beyond her comprehension.

Before her wet sheath had even stopped pulsing, Zuko had kicked off his boots and sat up slightly to tug off his pants and shirt. He straddled her still on the bed, one hand burying itself behind her head in her hair and twisting in it, almost painfully. His cock swam in her hazy post-orgasmic field of view, and with his hand fisted in her hair he guided it to her lips.

"Put your mouth on me, like you did before," he whispered, breathing heavily and not trying to disguise the aggression in his voice. She drew a breath in surprise as she saw how hard and stiff he was—_had he been this way the entire time?_—and remembered how he had tasted on her tongue. A shiver went through her.

Obediently she covered him with her lips, slowly at first, gently licking at the swollen head. Zuko released his breath in a hiss, but his fingers in her locks tightened even further; her lips gaped around his flesh to gasp with discomfort. "_More,_" she heard him whisper, greedily, lustily.

Katara took him further into her mouth, sucking on his flesh and swiping her tongue along the underside, the heat in her body nowhere near subsided. He continued to growl orders at her; a minor annoyance. "Deeper. Open your mouth, more…" He sighed when she did, once or twice. It was the only encouragement he would give her besides, "_That's good._"

As she sucked him, the realization occurred to her that when she had performed the act to his satisfaction, he was going to take it out of her mouth—this hard flesh she lavished such adoring oral attention on—and thrust it up between her legs, driving it inside her, _hard_, over and over again_._ The thought filled her with an ache that she could only describe as a craving, and she shifted her legs and hips restlessly.

When it appeared as though he was starting to get too close he stopped her, pulling her head back to look into her face. She could tell from his good eye that her swollen lips and glazed eyes—still a bit red from crying—seemed to please him somehow, although he tried to disguise it. "Come on, get up," he snapped at her brusquely, and guided her with rough hands to the chair in the corner, the same one she had seen a couple of days earlier when she'd snuck into his room. His fingers cut bruises into the soft flesh of her upper arms. Katara stumbled slightly, still a bit disoriented; he pushed her onto her knees on the chair, facing the cushioned back. Suddenly he was behind her, kneeling on the chair's seat himself and pushing her forward so her chest pressed into the headrest. It was uncomfortable—the headrest's support pushed the air from her lungs, and bit into her ribcage—and she protested loudly.

His answer was a sharp slap to her already sore rear-end, and another painful tug of her hair. Katara yelped and understood, then; this was how it was going to be. To get what she wanted, she had to play by his rules, at least for the moment. She held herself still, gasping for breath.

With one hand fisting again in her hair, the other at her hip, she felt him positioning himself behind her, nudging her thighs apart further with his own, his cock sliding between her legs in a tantalizing rocking motion. She liked the feeling of it against her and bucked up into him, moaning appreciatively.

"Take it easy," Zuko growled; a warning against her impatience. He adjusted her to his liking, moving her limbs as if she were a pliant doll, pushing her so that her belly rested on the head of the chair, more of her exposed to him. He teased her, rubbing at the edges of her cunt with the head of his cock, eliciting whimpers of frustration. Then slowly, carefully, he slid inside, and her eyes nearly crossed from the pleasure of it.

Then he began to _fuck_ her, and Katara had to bite her lip and nearly draw blood to hold back her shout. He wasn't as gentle with her, didn't treat her as delicately as he had the last time; he moved steadily and forcefully, his thrusting hips pushing her against the chair's headrest, one fist twined in her hair and one at her hip as he plowed into her.

Katara at first refused to believe the noises she heard in the room were hers—surely it wasn't _she_ who was making those pitifully needy moans or cries—but when he withdrew completely from her body to roughly reposition her on the chair's back, she was horrified to hear a keening wail escape her own lips in response. He chuckled with amusement, and she felt her face burn as red as her tanned hide. _He has me right where he wants me._

But Zuko wasn't quite as immune as he pretended he was, either. His breathing came hard and labored, and as he buried his cock inside her once more to the hilt he let loose a groan that ended in a soft curse. The hand that held her hip was shaking. She knew he could feel the heat from her punished ass-cheeks against his skin with every thrust, and the sight of them—red as they were, his hands leaving tan-colored prints when he touched them—must have pleased him to no end.

She knew he'd begun to reach his threshold when his grip on her hair lightened, his hand at her waist less of a vise and more of a caress; she could feel his body beginning to tremble behind her, his head bowed against her upper back as he tried to maintain control. His fingers sought her out once more, reaching under to stroke and massage, and before long Katara found herself plummeting down that hot, tight spiral of pleasure he'd brought her to before, barely muffling an ecstatic shout as she did. Zuko followed her quickly and helplessly over the edge, tumbling after in shocks and shudders, gasping and whispering her name so quietly she almost didn't hear it. She felt his hot liquid surging inside of her, scalding her with its heat.

They both went momentarily limp on the chair, trying to remember how to breathe. Zuko supported her weight from behind, but eventually disentangled himself and she took the opportunity to bend his seed from her body. She had scarcely finished doing it when he took her arm and dragged her toward the bed, where they both unceremoniously fell in a heap.

She looked at him with somewhat-horrified disbelief as they lay together side by side. "You're ready to do it _again?_" That myth about firebender stamina really _did_ have some merit_._

For the first time in days, she heard him laugh. "_No,_" he sputtered breathlessly.

"Oh." _So much for wish-fulfillment._ "I didn't know why you brought me back to the bed—"

"To rest for a little bit. We're not done yet, you know." He looked at her beside him and reached to brush an untamed lock of hair from her face, smirking as he did. "It might take me more than a minute, so you'll just have to be patient."

She scowled as though she hadn't found his reply amusing. Her eyes continued to rove over him intently, curious. "You really weren't angry with me."

"Not really, I wasn't."

"Then why did you spank me so hard?" Katara reached a hand behind her to tentatively touch her still-sore flesh. "It still really hurts."

"I told you; punishment." He reached over her to touch her backside as well, barely brushing it with his fingers. "Your skin's still hot," he observed, and brought the hand back to hold it before her face. "Blow coldly on it."

"On your hand?" She looked at him, confused.

"Just do it."

She took a breath and exhaled slowly, conjuring ice, and coated his hand with a light sheen of frost. He placed it over her hip behind her again, pressing it against the cheeks of her ass. Katara hissed and shrank back at the stinging sensation. He held it firm, though, and after another moment she began to feel relief.

"Better?" Zuko asked, and she nodded. He moved closer to better place his cooling hand, pulling their bodies nearly flush up against one another's. The look in his good eye was gentle, mirthful. It bewildered her.

He saw it. "You took to your punishment quite well, I'd say."

"I still don't see why I had to be spanked so hard," she argued, bristling slightly. "I barely even slapped you."

"You slapped my face. And someone had to get you in line."

Although she knew he was playing somewhat, she hardened her eyes purposefully into pools of blue ice. "Let's get something straight, here. _I'm_ the one keeping _you_ in line…not the other way around."

"You wouldn't know it from the tantrums you were throwing earlier today," he remarked defiantly, a small gleam in his golden eyes.

"Well what else was I supposed to do when you ignore me and blow me off like you did, and—"

Zuko removed the hand that had been cupping her rear, and held it up between them. "Wait. You think _I_ blew _you_ off?" When she didn't respond, he let loose a grin; Katara blinked in confusion.

"You think I _wanted_ to leave for three days, to go off somewhere with Aang by ourselves, when I knew you were here waiting for me?" He shook his head against the pillow it rested on, his hair obscuring part of his scar. "Believe me, it was the furthest thing from what I wanted. But Aang _had_ to learn firebending, and I had to get my own technique under control in order to teach him. I didn't have any other choice." The look in his eyes softened. "I would have rather stayed here and let you recoup more of your 'penance'."

She was as shocked by his confession as she was by his honesty about it. _He'd wanted to stay; he had wanted to be here, with me,_ she realized. _He wants me as much as I'm wanting him._

…_Katara, you are a complete __**idiot.**_

And then, despite the fact that it had only been several minutes since their first romp, despite her sore bottom and the fact that Toph was probably awake and all the multitude of reasons why they shouldn't, he reached for her again. This time instead of wriggling out of his grasp, she willingly gave in to it.

He lay over her, kissing her body, biting gently with his teeth and sometimes sucking, leaving a trail of kissmarks down her flesh. He nipped at her stomach and thighs, and she yelped and shrieked appreciatively. He stopped the rough play to lick her hungrily between the legs again—"I can never get enough of how you taste, here"—as she groaned and fisted her hands in his hair.

She spread her legs for him on her back and he slid inside, holding her close. He moved inside her slowly at first, watching her eyes, whispering to her, before gathering her knees over his arms and thrusting harder and faster. She watched the subtle, fleeting changes across his face as he did, fascinated with the light in his eyes, the shape of his lips, the curve of his brow as he furrowed it in concentrated desire. The expressions he made while he fucked her hard in his bed were the same as the ones she'd envisioned when she had pleasured herself alone. At the height, she reached behind and put her hands on his backside, grabbing his ass and pressing him even closer into her, as if she could force him in even deeper inside her.

-o-

-o-

He entreated her to stay in his bed with him until morning; when she said no and insisted it was final, he asked another question.

"Speaking of sleep…have you seen one of my pillowcases around anywhere?"

-o-

-o-

Hours after she had gone to him, shortly before the sun rose, Katara snuck back to her own room, a little more sore and no less confused about everything.


	3. Contrition

**A/N:** Takes place during-and-post-episodes 314-315 (The Boiling Rock). Zuko ups the ante of their little sex-and-punishment game, and Katara has to find a way to deal with the new development between them.

* * *

_It is very easy to forgive others their mistakes; it takes more grit and gumption to forgive them for having witnessed your own. _

-Jessamyn West

* * *

**contrition**

_meaning: remorse_

* * *

"Do you guys want to hear Uncle's favorite tea joke?"

The group was around the campfire again, having already finished their evening meal. To nearly everyone's amusement Zuko had insisted on pouring tea for them—"I did this with Uncle in Ba Sing Se for a while," he'd reminisced, prompting Katara to suddenly and vividly recall his green and beige teashop apron, his scruffy hair, _his sad, sorrowful eyes in the cavern_—and was serving it to each of them on a serving platter.

"Sure, I like jokes!" Aang encouraged, and the others made small, amiable noises of assent.

Zuko became unexpectedly self-conscious and stammered a bit. "…Okay. Well…I can't remember how it starts, but…the punchline is, 'Leaf me alone, I'm bushed!'"

He was met with dead silence. In the distance somewhere in the temple, a badgerfrog croaked.

"…Well," he continued quietly, his bravado deflated, "…it's funnier when Uncle tells it."

He resumed serving, handing a hot teacup each to Toph and then to Teo before moving on down the circle and approaching Katara. She wisely lowered her eyes as he knelt and she took the proffered cup of tea, feeling his gaze searing her skin. After his failed joke and obvious embarrassment she was torn between comforting him—_where did __that__ come from?_—and snickering heartlessly, finally settling on something between the two.

"…Right. Maybe that's because _he_ remembers the whole thing."

The entire group laughed at her sarcastic barb. She sipped her tea, nose in the air; out of the corner of her eye she could see the dismay flit briefly across his features. But slowly then his expression began to change, his disheartened look replaced by a devious one, and a small smile formed at the corners of his lips. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and Katara was sure it was meant for only her to see.

She felt herself shiver imperceptibly in response, knowing what it meant—a secret code between them. He'd find a way to repay her in private for the taunt he'd received in public.

He was serving tea to her brother when she overheard Sokka suddenly turn to the firebender and ask, "Hey—can I talk to you, for a second?" Zuko nodded, slightly confused, and followed Sokka when he got to his feet and left the circle around the fire. They went to the edge of the temple's balcony away from the light of the group's camp, and spoke in hushed tones in the shadows.

"Boy it sure is nice to relax for a while after all of that fighting we were doing," Toph noted, sipping from her cup. Katara frowned and cocked her head in the direction of the two in the corner; she strained her ears as unobtrusively as she could, but she could hear nothing.

"Yeah…I just wonder how long it's going to last," Haru replied quietly.

Their quiet conversation continued. Katara was deep in thought. _What could Sokka possibly want to talk to him about?_ she wondered. Had he seen something? Did he know? It was conceivable that Toph had blabbed to him about their recent 'escapades', and he was now probably cornering Zuko to warn him about keeping his evil Fire Nation clutches off of her.

Either that or he was bartering a trade deal, knowing Sokka. _My sister for international ambassador rights to the Fire Nation! _Katara grimaced in spite of herself.

She ignored the thought and tried to focus on the look Zuko had let slip, that subtle glance that had sent her blood racing, implying he knew what she was up to and was silently plotting out his revenge—but when she turned her head, she saw only Aang across the fire in her field of vision. He was looking at her intently, his big gray eyes solemn and sorrowful.

All thoughts of delicious retribution vanished; Katara felt a tremendous wave of remorse. She knew the young monk adored her, wanted to be close to her, and ever since his awkward and faltering kiss on the day of the eclipse, she'd been avoiding him. Not quite intentionally—after all, her attention these days was quite occupied by the firebender's skillful fingers, mouth, and other parts of his body—but not accidentally, either. It was…complicated.

She loved Aang, but it was not as he loved her. It was as a doting mother cared for a son.

With a sigh she rose and began collecting the dishware from dinner to clean it, her head bowed. Predictably enough, his young voice piped up: "Hey Katara, do you want any help with the dishes?"

The rebuff was gentle. "No, Aang, I'm fine. Thank you." She risked one last glance at the two young men in the shadows—they were still talking, Zuko gesturing animatedly and Sokka folding his arms across his chest in a decidedly Katara-like manner, the picture of obstinacy. Finally Sokka turned on his heel with a few choice words and returned to the camp's circle, leaving the Fire Prince still brooding and sulking in the corner, hands clenched in fists.

Toph had made a makeshift sink out of the temple wall for her days earlier, with easy access to the runoff of one of the nearby water fountains and a waist-level shelf of rock separating it from the rest of the temple interior. Katara stood behind it now and went about cleaning the dishware quietly, her mind wandering as she watched the rest of the kids talking and giggling around the campfire.

_If Sokka were to find out about what Zuko and I have been doing, would he tell Aang?_ she wondered, with a pervading pang of dread. Such an admission would surely devastate him. Eventually she was going to have to confront the young airbender regarding his feelings for her, but there was too much at stake now. He had to gain confidence to beat the Firelord. There was no way she could outright reject his advances and not throw a koala-wrench into his precarious emotional state before the Comet arrived.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't hear Zuko stealthily approach until she felt him nudge her—bodily but gently—from behind, his hot breath tickling against the shell of her ear. "Need some help?"

She stiffened. "Not from _you_."

Zuko chuckled quietly as her grip tightened on the dishware in front of her. "Amazing how someone so fastidiously clean can be so dirty at the same time," he whispered in a low rasp.

"Shut up. I'm _not_ dirty," she hissed back between her teeth, elbowing him sharply in the ribs for his impudence. Blood blossomed unwillingly in her cheeks.

His hands, below the view from the other side of the shelf of rock, curled around her waist, his fingers digging into her hips and pulling her more firmly against him. "Denial is the first step towards acceptance," he chortled into her ear.

She elbowed him again harder, feeling her body start to respond to him. "Stop it…don't stand so close to me—they're watching!"

"So? Let them watch."

But Aang had turned back to their corner of the temple, always a keen eye on Katara, and seeing Zuko with her had driven him to get to his feet to approach them. Katara began to panic, not the least bit ready for such a confrontation. _He can't see us together like this…_

"_Zuko!_" she hissed fiercely under her breath, admonishing him to leave.

She couldn't afford to turn around to berate him further, because Aang was almost upon them—but she could no longer feel his presence behind her, and she assumed he'd made himself scarce. She continued to calmly wash the dishware with her bending, holding her breath to control her racing heartbeat.

"Hey, Katara," Aang prompted cautiously, looking about. "Um, I thought I just saw Zuko here…where did he go?"

"Oh…_him?_" she asked, her voice much too high-pitched and chipper, as though he were someone she hadn't seen in years. She made a dramatic look of shrugging and sweeping her eyes around the area. "I have no idea! He was just here a moment ago and then he vanished…you know him, he likes to wander around…I wonder where he could—"

A quick pinch to the back of her thigh told her his proximity was closer than she thought. Katara squeaked in surprise, eyes wide as teacup saucers, and then clamped down on the sound when she realized Zuko was behind her, crouching so he was beneath the shelf's—and thus, Aang's—line of sight.

Aang's eyes boggled at the noise she made. "…What was _that?_ Are you okay?"

Katara nodded fiercely and laughed it off. "I'm fine! I just…uh…hiccupped." She did it once more intentionally to demonstrate, but the look on the young monk's face suggested he knew enough to know what a hiccup _was_, and that hadn't been one.

Down by her feet, Zuko was touching her, now—she could feel his hands holding the backs of her thighs through her robe, and then as they slipped underneath it to stroke the inside of her knees. Katara shivered surreptitiously and tried to ignore what was going on beneath the visible part of the shelf.

"The reason I was asking you about Zuko is," Aang was speaking again and she turned her attention to it, "well…I just noticed lately that he's been a lot closer to you, since we got back from the Sun Warrior ruins."

"Closer?" she replied, attempting to push and kick the firebender in question away with her feet without drawing Aang's attention. The irony of the topic of conversation didn't escape her. "…I wouldn't say that." She focused on keeping her voice nonchalant, continuing to dry the dishware in front of her.

Aang was persistent. "I see you talking to him more often," he ventured, and she could see he was trying his best to not be petulant and keep the conversation light.

At her feet Zuko was refusing to budge, and in fact had begun moving his hands further up under her robe, slipping along the leggings and sliding around to the front of her thighs. She glanced down for a quick beat and saw that he'd slid his entire body around to kneel in front of her, and was opening the lower part of her robe to insert himself bodily between her legs. She clenched her thighs together. "Not any more often than I talk to anyone else, Aang," she tried to reassure him, gently. It was getting progressively more difficult to not get distracted.

"…I guess that's true." The airbender seemed placated, finally, and his tentative smile returned. "You talk to everybody—you're the one who's always looking after us, after all."

"Yes, and…sometimes looking after everyone can be a _big responsibility_," she emphasized, as she gave Zuko a vicious forward kick underneath the shelf. Unfortunately her aim was better than she'd thought, and this time it was hard enough to make him let out a yelp; Aang looked concerned, his eyebrows skyrocketing. Katara quickly covered the sound with loud, harsh coughs.

"Hiccups, again?" he asked hesitantly, and she nodded through her coughing fit.

"Well, I have to say…I _am_ glad that you've started to accept Zuko as part of our group," Aang continued. "I'm sure it must have been really hard for you to do so."

Katara wriggled as she felt Zuko grasp her thighs even more firmly than before, pinching a bit as he slid his hands up her hips. _What is he __doing?_ She had half a mind to grab him by the hair and start yanking tufts of it out. "Believe me, it wasn't easy," she replied, gritting her teeth. "He has a way of making everything ha—" here she caught her breath, as she felt his hand suddenly slide between the junction of her thighs, hot fingers pressing against her core through her leggings, "—_ard_." She swallowed awkwardly over the end of the word. _Oh._

"Yeah, he's a very tough firebending trainer," the airbender agreed in a lamenting tone, as Zuko's hands resumed their task of moving up over her hips, and this time she didn't move to stop him. His fingers hooked themselves at the waistband of her leggings and long underwear, and suddenly Katara was undoubtedly, _undeniably_ aware of what he was about to do. She held her breath as she felt him start to pull them down, first at the front, then moving one of his hands behind to slide the material over the curve of her ass. "He's been making me work non-stop," Aang went on.

"Mmm." She didn't dare trust herself to speak; her leggings and underwear were pushed down and bunched around her knees, and she knew then that she was growing increasingly wet between the thighs. She gripped the dish still in her hand tightly.

"And he's really mean about it, sometimes! He gets mad at me so easily when I mess up on something." Now she felt his hot breath on her bared skin, his exhale just barely tickling the brush of hair covering her sex, and Katara tried very hard not to shake in anticipation.

"He really should…be nicer," she said softly, biting her lip and fighting with every ounce of her will not to look down at what was—or, more infuriating, was _not_—going on between her legs. "It's not nice of him to…treat you that way."

He pressed his mouth against her and licked her then, parting the seam of her outer lips with his tongue and probing deeper, and Katara blinked a few times in rapid succession. Her breath hitched.

"He should! Maybe if you talked to him about it, he would listen to you," Aang suggested hopefully.

Zuko licked again, holding her steady by her thighs. He was nuzzling at her with his mouth, trying to get to as much of her as he could; she tossed her head helplessly with the feeling even as she tried to spread her legs wider. "I—I don't know that he'd listen to _me_," she answered. "Maybe…you just need to…" Zuko was lifting her knee slightly while trying to free it from the constraints of her leggings, "…um…be more honest with him?"

"…Maybe. I should at least try it, right?"

Katara parted her mouth slightly to breathe as the firebender, having successfully freed one leg from the tangle of her pooled leggings and underclothing, repositioned himself under her and buried his face again between her thighs, his nose flush against her flesh. His tongue worked at her in a studious rhythm, hot and wet, covering every inch of her slit—paying special attention to the swollen nub at the forefront, going over it slowly and repeatedly several times before diving back down to her musky center to begin the process all over again. She felt herself growing dizzy with lust.

"Mmhm," she responded, trying her best to keep her expression neutral and remain sturdy on her feet. Despite the fact that her blood seemed to be rushing everywhere else in her body at once, it still managed to rush to her face as well, and she was sure Aang could see it. This was torture in its purest form.

But Aang was busy watching her hands' movements; she'd been cleaning the same dish for several moments. "Do you have a lot more to do? Because I can still help if you wa—"

Zuko took advantage of the stiffening of her back, and shoved his tongue roughly inside her before withdrawing it again—a quick, stabbing tease. "_No!_ No, Aang," Katara gasped suddenly, and gave a short laugh to cover it. "I'll…I'll be fine…really." She fought to disguise how quickly her breath had started to come.

Aang paused. "Okay." He turned as though to leave her to the rest of her work.

Katara allowed herself a glance downward to meet a motley pair of slitted gold eyes staring back up at her, mouth latched on to her like an eel-leech. Holding her gaze, he resumed his rhythmic licking and sucking and she closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from making any sound.

"On second thought," Aang piped up, turning back to her, and her head snapped to attention once more, "um…there's one more thing I wanted to ask."

She tried her best to smile, forcibly pulling her lips into a grin when they would rather have hung open and slack with pleasure. "…What is it?"

"On the Day of Black Sun," he began, as Zuko rubbed his slickened lips against her sensitive clit and she felt the pad of a finger stroking her wet entrance right below it, "what do you think about…what happened?"

Katara shut her eyes momentarily. _Of course._ Of course Aang was going to ask about this _now_, while she could barely breathe in a regular pattern, while simply managing to stand upright was a heroic effort, and as the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation was on his knees between her legs, licking her greedily and preparing to impale her on his fingers.

"Aang, I—" _Ohh._ She gasped—the tip of his finger entered her to the first knuckle. "—I just…it's a little confusing…right now." Postpone. Divert. Zuko sucked her swollen flesh, drawing wet circles around it with his tongue and then lapping with earnest, and pressed the digit in just a bit further. She shuddered. "It's—"

"—It was like a rush of feelings, wasn't it?" Aang replied dreamily, apparently on a completely different wavelength. "I felt the same way. It was hard to believe it was actually happening."

She grimaced in an attempt to conceal her pleasure; Zuko slid his finger in all the way, crooking the end of it slightly to rub against the inside of her. He withdrew and then slid it in again, pumping it in and out slowly in time to his mouth's attentions. She was sure the facial expression she was making was the same as when she'd eaten something undesirable, and she gulped. "…Yeah," she replied uncertainly.

But Aang noticed. "Katara…are you all right?"

Katara put a hand to her chest. Now was her chance to make her dramatic exit. "Actually, Aang, it's too much," she whispered. Which really wasn't a lie, when she thought about it; the present situation was definitely too much to take. "My thoughts are all jumbled up…it was such a…an _unusual_ experience—" she saw him visibly puff up with pride, "—that I just don't think I can talk about it right now…"

As if to punish her for her words, Zuko introduced a second finger, his mouth never missing a beat. She felt it stretching her slightly in combination with the first, moving steadily as he stroked her from the inside out. The added pressure and stimulation made her gasp, and she writhed, nearly bucking as she arched her spine. He pursed his lips around her and sucked hard on her swollen clit.

Katara felt as though she'd lost the bones in her legs, and she raised her eyes pleadingly to meet the airbender's, trying her best to hold herself back while on the brink. "…Can we talk about it later?"

Aang finally seemed appeased, for better or worse. "Wow…I had no idea it had affected you so much," he said, shaking his head slightly with wonder. "All right. We'll definitely talk about it later, then." His smile was innocent and full of hope as he turned to leave.

It was when he was far away enough out of earshot that Katara allowed herself to fall forward on her arms against the shelf's countertop, bracing against it as she surrendered completely to sensation. The only reason she still stood somewhat upright was due to Zuko's hand at her hip—her legs were trembling like leaves in a storm, and about to give out beneath her.

"…Don't stop," she hissed authoritatively under her breath, fingers of one hand reaching down underneath her and fisting in his hair, her hips jerking against his mouth helplessly. "Zuko, _don't stop_…_"_ She felt his hold on her hip tighten, his tongue's strokes keeping the rhythm steady, and she bit her lip viciously as her sounds came, willing herself to hold back and choking them in the recesses of her throat as she shivered through her climax. For several long seconds she was pinned face down amidst the piles of dishes, trying desperately to catch her breath, his fingers still pistoning inside her. They slowed gradually as he took his mouth away.

She felt him take one final, lingering taste, and then he withdrew his fingers—not easily, as her convulsing muscles gripped him tightly—and slid away behind her on his knees. Katara turned her head to observe him, panting. He made a show of wiping his mouth, her juices evidenced on his sleeve, and then eyed her appreciatively; she was still bent against the sink with the lower part of her robe pulled to the side, legs spread, her underclothing pooled around one ankle. She saw the conflict in his eyes as desire and caution warred with one another.

Then without another word, Zuko decisively cleared his throat, adjusted himself and stood with a fluid motion to walk calmly around the other side of the shelf—back toward the group around the campfire, as though nothing had happened. She heard him make some excuse to Aang and the others for his absence and looked on as he crossed his legs and sat down, immediately rejoining the conversation which had turned jovial and light again.

She watched him smile and laugh; the part of her that wasn't still reeling from physical satisfaction seethed with annoyance. How easy it was for him to pretend in front of the others, and especially in front of Aang—as though just moments earlier he hadn't been orally pleasuring the object of Aang's affection, in plain hidden sight, right under his nose.

_Of course it's easy for him,_ she reminded herself bitterly. _He's Ozai's son; a born liar._

She didn't want to reflect on what exactly that made _her_, though, having deceived Aang as well.

Still and now more than ever wet between the thighs, Katara performed some discreet maneuvering, working to pull her leggings and underclothing back up over her hips behind the shelf as she cursed the Fire Prince's nonchalance under her breath. He'd made good on his retribution, all right. He was probably giving himself mental back-pats at that very moment. _But, _she thought, smirking wickedly and already plotting, _there's still tonight._

-o-

-o-

She woke abruptly. There was light in the sky, and it was not Yue; the sun had been up for at least a couple of hours. Katara blearily assessed herself, blinking the sleep from her eyes to get her bearings and wiping the spot of drool from the side of her mouth. She didn't recall the last time she'd slept so deeply, or so soundly. _I suppose I have __him__ to thank for that_.

But in her deep sleep she'd missed the opportunity to wait for him, or to go to his room herself to exact more penance—their every-few-nightly ritual that was becoming a steady habit for both of them. It was a bit surprising that he hadn't come to wake her up, as well—she'd seen the look in his eyes the night before, after he'd finished her off, and she'd known there was a round two forthcoming later that night. After all, Zuko wasn't one to ignore his own needs…at least, not for very long.

So what had happened?

In the center of the temple, the kids were already up but still yawning and stretching. Toph and Aang were in the midst of a mild argument, and she overheard it as she came closer.

"I can tell you now, I'm pretty sure there's no meat for breakfast," Toph grumbled. "I have the feeling that Snoozles ate the last of it."

"That's no concern of mine," Aang retorted. "I don't even eat meat for breakfast!"

"You are missing out _so hard_, and you don't even know it."

Katara gently cleared her throat. "Has anyone seen Zuko yet, this morning?"

"_No_," Toph punctuated irritably, "he and Sokka are _both_ missing. So is Zuko's war balloon. And they left this." She shoved a piece of paper with handwriting on it in Katara's direction, and the waterbender patiently took it and looked it over. "I can't read it, 'cause…well, you know."

"I can't read it, either," Aang lamented. "If that's Zuko's writing, it's like picken-scratch!"

Katara turned it upside-down, this way and that, and squinted. "…I think I can read it," she murmured.

"What does it say?"

" 'Need meat. Gone fishing. Back in a couple days. Sokka and Zuko.' "

"Well, at least they've got their priorities straight," Toph noted, obvious approval in her voice. Already bored, Aang strode away yawning.

" 'A couple more things,' " Katara continued to read. " 'Aang: practice your firebending while I'm gone. Do twenty sets of firefists, and ten hotsquats every time you hear a badgerfrog croak.' "

A telltale croaking sound erupted from somewhere inside the temple, and Aang's face pinched as he whined to himself miserably from where he lay face down on his sleeping bag. "Nobody_ else_ has homework."

"That's not true," she admonished, and kept reading. " 'Toph: make sure Aang does his firefists and hotsquats. To ensure he gets the most out of his workout today, pummel him with some boulders at the same time he's doing his firebending exercises.' "

Toph's face lit up as she cackled, and Aang's grew even more furious. "_What?_" he demanded. "That's so unfair!"

" 'And lastly, Katara,' " she read interestedly, her lips quirking into the beginning of a smile, " 'next time, w—' " She stopped abruptly, her eyes scanning the note, a heated flush suddenly rushing to her cheeks.

"Next time, what? What does it say, Katara?" Toph asked.

"…Nothing," she muttered, face sufficiently reddened, folding the note up carefully and tucking it away in an inner pocket of her robe.

_Next time, wear your sarong while you're washing dishes instead of your leggings, for easier access. Just a suggestion. —Zuko._

-o-

-o-

The next two days droned on endlessly. To his credit, Aang worked diligently during the sunlit hours at the tasks that Zuko had assigned to him, and both Toph and Haru took on the responsibility for keeping him on his toes. They hurtled boulders several times his size at him as Aang successfully dodged and returned the barrage, punching volleys of fire from his fists between each assault.

Katara kept herself and the other kids busy with chores and activities, but at night found her mind wandering yet again. Zuko had been reckless to do what he did, in front of everyone, especially Aang; if they'd been caught, the results would have been devastating.

Just what was a suitably serious punishment for him, when he returned? The obvious answer was to deny him their ritualistic every-few-nightly reenactment of his penance, seeing as he had all but admitted he enjoyed it, but that prospect was quickly negated when she thought of her own needs. No, she needed to humiliate him, somehow; she needed to remind him that he still _owed_ her, that she still deserved much more from him, and that she was the one who would determine when sufficient penance had been made.

Binding him and teasing him mercilessly would work; she envisioned tying him up as he'd done to her (both months ago to the tree, and again in her recent thoughts) so that he was helpless, and tormenting him in various ways. He would definitely have to be gagged—fire-breathing would be off-limits. Maybe she would go about undressing him partially, through the bindings, baring parts of his skin that would be vulnerable to her touch…letting him know that _she_ was in control, and _she_ would dictate how things would go between them. Katara felt a thrill as she imagined him helpless under her, begging her for leniency, begging her to respect his dignity—and eventually giving in to her the way she gave in to him earlier.

She smiled to herself smugly, anticipating his return.

-o-

-o-

Then on the third afternoon, the group was brought to the outer edge of the temple by a strange noise—the moaning and creaking of wood and metal straining together. It was something enormous, and the sound was increasing as whatever it was made its way toward them.

"It could be Azula in one of her airships," Aang noted quietly, and Katara noted the hint of fear in his voice. "They might have found our location." The sound grew louder, nearly deafening in the echo of the temple's hollowed-out valley, and Aang readied the staff of his glider to fight.

_At the very least_, she thought, _he might be able to push them out of the valley with his airbending, before they get in a good shot at us—_

But when she saw Zuko's telltale red and gold tunic at the bough of the ship on its descent, his loose hair whipping on the wind, she put a restraining hand on Aang's shoulder. "…Wait. Don't do anything. It's them!"

The wood of the airship creaked and groaned as the dreadnought slowly docked against the temple's balcony. Eventually the plank was lowered, and Sokka and Zuko stepped out into the afternoon light, to the mild surprise of the small group gathered to watch.

Katara stepped forward and addressed Zuko without having given the motion a second thought, as though it were perfectly natural to look to him as the leader of…whatever they'd been doing. She attempted to not over-analyze her own response to seeing him, but the gesture was futile—she _always_ had a response to seeing him. Half the time she just didn't know whether the response merited violence, or sex, or a combination of both.

"…What are you doing in _this_ thing?" she demanded, her voice disbelieving. "And what happened to your war balloon?"

He grinned, with something reminiscent of a feral smirk. _I'm glad to see you too_, she thought it read, and her face felt suddenly and inexplicably warm. "…It kinda got destroyed," he replied.

"Sounds like a crazy fishing trip." Aang laughed beside her, and Katara was quickly yanked back into her surroundings. She laced her arms over her chest protectively.

Toph groaned with impatience. "Did either of you at least get some good meat? I'm _starving!_"

"I did," Sokka announced with a smile. "The best meat of all—the meat of friendship…and _fatherhood_."

And without preamble, Hakoda emerged from the shadows of the airship's interior and walked down the plank, followed by Suki and someone else, clad in prison clothes.

Katara broke out into a smile, but it was faltering behind the tears that had begun to swim in her eyes. Her heart suddenly plummeted to her feet; she felt the rest of the world quickly drop out from under her as well.

"…_Dad._" She ran forward to meet him, launching herself directly into her father's arms. "_Dad!_"

Hakoda embraced her, smiling, and spoke over her head gently. "Hi, Katara."

She pulled back from his embrace, sniffling and trying to make sense of it. "But I don't understand—how are you here? What's going on?" She turned to face her brother and Zuko again, her tears evaporating in the wake of the sudden happiness flooding her veins. She was trembling. She felt as though she were awash in sunlight. Her heart had resumed its rightful place in her chest and was beating madly with joy.

She was struggling to make sense of it, but part of her already understood—_he did this. __He__ did this_. "…Where did you guys _go?_"

Sokka looked vaguely sheepish as the firebender smiled behind him. "We…kinda went to a Fire Nation prison."

Katara wasted no more time in yanking her brother forward by the arm into their family embrace, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Zuko's grin widened somewhat wistfully as she did.

"…Okay," Toph broke the silence, waving her small hands, "no, _seriously_…did _anyone_ get _any meat?_"

-o-

-o-

Fortunately for the World's Greatest Earthbender, Hakoda and Chit Sang were quick to point out to everyone that aboard Azula's dreadnought there was a more than ample supply of foodstocks—meat, produce, and dried fruits. The goods were unloaded from the ship after Chit Sang's introductions were made, and the group gleefully began unpacking the food. There was more than enough to cook for everyone, and to still have plenty of supplies left over for later.

In addition, there were also several cases of some kind of Fire Nation liquor aboard the ship. Katara had been curious enough to try to open one of the bottles, which were handspun red glass with ornate fire and comet emblems etched in gold—only to be quickly thwarted by Zuko, who assured her that the drink was too harsh and too strong.

"_Hu__o __shui_," he called it, taking it abruptly from her hands and recorking it. "Also known as 'Lick of the Dragon'. And it's meant for only the roughest of warriors. It'll burn your throat something awful if you try it." Katara frowned and obstinately set her hands on her hips.

Sokka had one arm looped about Suki's neck, and Katara noticed her father eyeing the display with subtle interest. "On the one hand, Zuko knows what he's talking about. He used to travel with the Fire Navy." He held up his free arm. "On the other hand, Zuko, you _obviously_ don't know my sister." Suki laughed behind her hand. "She's more than able to partake of a little 'hair of the polar rat', you know what I'm sayin'?"

"No, she's not," Hakoda inserted, his voice stern, and Katara's pout deepened before she hid it away. Her father lifted a red glass bottle to examine it. "I don't think any of you kids should be drinking this stuff." He opened the cork and emptied the entire contents of the bottle onto the temple floor. Sokka let out a pathetic mewl at the sight of the wasted liquor.

Zuko's expression looked as though he were considering the possibility of eating his earlier words, as he watched the highly-prized brandy drain away on the ground. "Well, it's…it's not _that_ bad for you…I'm sure the older kids could try it…"

"Yeah," piped up Toph with a smirk, "it's not as though that's the _worst_ thing they've been doing lately!"

The entire congregation turned to look—curiously and fearfully—at the blind earthbender.

"Um…Toph," Katara began sweetly, nearly perspiring with anxiety as she felt her father's eyes on her, "I think it's about time we started getting some of this food prepared…our guests must be hungry."

"But—"

"_Right now_." Katara fisted her hand in the earthbender's tunic and dragged her away towards the temple's interior.

Out of earshot, Toph shrugged out of her vise-like grip. "Hey, Fussybritches, just cool it, okay? I think after everything I've been through in the last week or so, that I'm entitled to give my opinion about what's been going on around here."

Katara turned on her. "Not anymore," she seethed quietly, pointing back to the group at large still investigating the dreadnought. "That's my _father_ out there, Toph."

"…So?"

"_So_, if he even finds out an inkling about what I've been doing—what _you think_ I've been doing—or whatever it is that you seem to think is going on, he's…he's going to be _really_ mad." She frowned. "You saw how he won't even let me have a single drink of that _huo__shui_!"

Toph was nonplussed as she waved her hand in the air. "So why should you care what he thinks about what you do? You're old enough to make your own decisions, aren't you?"

That was true enough. "Well, yes, but—"

"And besides, Sokka told me once before that you'd taken on a lot of family responsibility when you were young, right?" Katara's eyes widened. It wasn't often that Toph put things so…delicately. "So you have an added maturity for someone your age that most others don't have. Your dad should respect that. Don't let him boss you around so much, Sweetness."

…_Whose side is she on, anyway?_ Katara folded her arms across her chest, the irony of the advice given not lost on her. "You seem to know an awful lot about this kind of stuff, for someone who basically ran away from her own family."

Toph sat back in a self-made rock chair and put her hands behind her head, ticking an invisible mark in the air before doing so. "Point taken. But let's not forget; I solved my own family problems. _I'm_ not the one with the moral dilemma, here. You are." She breezily picked at her torn and jagged fingernails.

Katara refrained from grumbling out an answer, and instead set about preparing the food.

It wasn't long after that when she felt a nudge at her arm as she was slicing the vegetables, and when she turned—expecting it to be Toph—she gave a short shriek of surprise at who was next to her. "_Zuko!_"

"I thought I could be of some help," he answered quietly, and then held up his hands at her expression. "No, I mean seriously. Just help, this time. I swear."

"You—" She bit her lip, remembering the last time he shared kitchen space with her, and she felt herself turning several uncomfortable shades of scarlet as her eyes flicked from him to her father, and back again. "Just stay _over there_," she ordered, pointing to the other end of the rock shelf. "That's your side."

"…Got it." He took a selection of vegetables and began peeling and dicing, focusing on the task before him and keeping his eyes straight ahead. Katara continued her own work, but could not keep from subtly stealing glances from time to time at the Fire Prince an arm's length away.

Sokka's voice carried through the temple's interior, as he, Suki and the others made their way in. "Come on in, take a load off," he was saying, gesturing to the group's meager blankets and mats spread out on the ground surrounding the fire pit. "We don't have much, but whatever we have, it's all yours, too!"

"You must have had an amazing adventure at this Fire Nation prison," Aang prompted Hakoda with a smile, sitting lotus-style on the ground before the unlit campfire. "Tell us all about it, and what happened that led to your escape? How did Sokka find you?"

Hakoda gave an audible sigh as he lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs as well. The others followed suit, and Katara's ears pricked to hear from behind the rock shelf. "Actually, Aang, Sokka said it was Zuko who was instrumental in enabling my son to find me."

She stole another glance at the firebender beside her. She saw Zuko's good eye flick to look at her from his peripheral, and then turn back to focus on the vegetables once more.

"Without Zuko's war balloon, they would have never been able to land on the Boiling Rock undetected by the Warden and his guards. And apparently his firebending came in quite handy."

"It's true," Sokka inserted, his arm still about Suki; to Katara they seemed attached at the hip. "Zuko was the one who offered to be thrown in the cold locker so that we were able to try our first escape attempt, using one of the cold storage units as a boat to cross the boiling lake." He managed a grin in Chit Sang's direction. "Of course, that didn't go over so well…"

"I almost got poached, literally," Chit Sang grumbled.

Katara found herself leaning into Zuko's workspace. "You were thrown in a cold locker?" she asked, her voice low and whispering. "As punishment? What was that like…?"

He turned his head and gave her a wry smile. "…Cold." When she looked exasperated, he went on. "Biting, stinging cold. Colder than I've ever been, even at the North Pole."

She bristled. _He just __had__ to bring that up._ "You wouldn't even be able to survive a _week_ at the Northern Water Tribe."

Zuko fixed her with a scowl, speaking lowly. "Be thankful that was the case ten months ago."

When he was last there. As if he thought he could have beaten her after all, even when she'd pummeled him in the snow and had nearly left him for dead, if not for Aang's intervention.

Katara fumed, biting her lip, and shoved the unwrapped pork shoulder toward him authoritatively. "_Cut that up," _she seethed_._ "And then go serve them some tea."

Zuko bowed his head in acquiescence. Wordlessly he edged closer and moved behind her, reaching around her other side to get another knife for the meat, and she stood perfectly still; she could feel his breath on her shoulder, intentional or otherwise, and at that single, simple gesture she felt herself shudder.

He returned to his side of the shelf, and she thought she spied the corners of his lips turned upward.

The group around the fire pit was continuing with storytelling time. "So we were able to get all the prisoners out and into the courtyard," Sokka went on, "and then we knew we'd need a diversion. That was where Chit Sang came in and offered up his powers of persuasion by starting a prison riot."

"We were planning on escaping over the lake using one of the gondolas during the riot," Suki interjected, picking up effortlessly where her boyfriend had left off—and Katara found herself vaguely jealous of how easily they cooperated, contributing to both sides of one story—"but we needed a hostage, to make sure they didn't cut the line while we were getting away. So we decided to take the Warden himself hostage."

"And Suki was the one who did it!" Sokka crowed happily, bussing her loudly on the cheek as she laughed.

Hakoda's eyebrows lifted at the noisy kiss, but he bestowed a warm smile on them both as he spoke again to the group. "You should have seen her. I've never seen a woman scale a wall like that, and take out so many guards with only her bare hands and feet." He bowed his head lightly in Suki's direction. "You do the entire village of Kyoshi credit with how well and bravely you fight."

Suki ducked her head modestly. "Thank you, Chief Hakoda." Out of the corner of Katara's eye, Zuko's head snapped up as he readied a platter of teacups.

_Chief Hakoda._ It occurred to her that Zuko hadn't known her father was the leader of the Southern Water Tribe.

"Oh please, just call him _Dad_ already," Sokka grinned, and Suki laughed again. "Or 'Chief Dad'."

"Sokka, is there something I should be officially informed of?" Hakoda asked pleasantly, a teasing tone to his voice as he accepted a cup of steaming oolong tea from the Fire Prince.

The teenagers snickered to themselves. "Nothing yet, sir," Suki replied politely, recovering her composure. Sokka nuzzled her again affectionately, and it was then that Katara noticed a flicker of something strange cross Zuko's features as he glanced at the canoodling pair around the fire pit. It took several moments for her to recognize the look as _wistful_.

She spent another several minutes still absentmindedly chopping vegetables and trying to absorb what the look had meant.

Zuko continued to serve his tea, as Sokka took up the story once more. "So anyway, then it was apparent that we had _real_ problems. Zuko's sister, the Princess, and her two friends suddenly showed up at the prison, and they started making trouble." Sokka stopped to rub his chin thoughtfully, almost murmuring to himself. "Come to think of it, how _did _they all seem to converge on that spot at the same time? Kind of a strange coincidence…"

"—Obviously I was still wanted by Azula, and someone at the prison had seen the posters somewhere and recognized me," Zuko quickly pointed out. Sokka nodded, but he still looked slightly baffled, as though his question hadn't been answered to his satisfaction.

"Again, we probably wouldn't have made it as far as we did by that point without Zuko," Hakoda spoke up again, and Katara's eyes widened. "He fought off his sister's fire attacks on the roof of the gondola."

"..._While it was in motion?_" Seconds too late, Katara carefully snapped her lips shut after her outburst.

"Yep!" Sokka chirped. "And then when they stopped the gondola to cut the line, I fell off the roof and would have fallen into the boiling lake, if Zuko hadn't grabbed my arm!"

Toph's mouth dropped open, and the rest of the group made startled sounds of awe. "I _knew_ it was gonna be a great rescue story," Aang beamed, his young face flushed with excitement from the thrill of the tale.

"But they didn't cut the line—right?" The Duke asked, fearfully.

"They tried to, but they were stopped by somebody still on the ground. Right, Dad?" Sokka turned to Hakoda with a quizzical look, and squinted. "Who was it again?...The knives and needles girl?..."

"_Mai_," Zuko answered abruptly, having served the last of the tea cups to Toph. The earthbender wiggled her toes happily as she received it.

Katara's interest was piqued again. Something about that part of the story didn't make sense to her. "But, wait…why would Mai do something like that?" she asked slowly. "Isn't she—"

"—It looked like there was some kind of internal uprising going on," Zuko interjected again quickly. "She must have been part of it." He gave her a brief nod and expertly steered the conversation away from the prison break. "Are the vegetables done? I need to start cooking if we're going to feed everyone soon."

"Finally," Chit Sang groaned, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving! What's on the menu?"

"Right—umm," Katara hemmed, hastily assembling the vegetables and spices as Zuko took their wok (an old iron one that had definitely seen better days) and the plate of ingredients over to the fire pit. "We're having…pork with onion and preserved turnip in lettuce cups, and spare ribs in black bean sauce with chili paste, and rehydrated cuttlefish with peppers, and bok-cabbage with ginger, and picken meat on skewers with peanut sauce…and then we're having mango sticky rice for dessert." She managed a quick smile. "And of course vegetarian versions for Aang."

Toph laughed gaily. "Wow, we haven't eaten like this in weeks! You went all out, didn't you, Sugar Queen?"

"It's Zuko that's doing the cooking, though," Aang pointed out, and the group watched as the fire pit suddenly flashed to life by the firebender's hand, and the wok was settled over it. The food and spices leapt in the pan with his movements, and already Katara could detect the scent of cooking pork wafting through the air.

"Do the picken skewers at the same time, Zuko!" the Duke crowed excitedly, and Zuko obliged, holding the skewers a short distance from his body and blowing a mouthful of fire over them. The entire group _ooooh_ed and clapped with delight, and Katara wondered to herself—not for the first time—how, in the space of only a little over a week, the Fire Prince had managed to charm and win over almost everyone in her circle of friends and family.

-o-

-o-

Dinner served the dual purpose of satiating everyone's appetites and further loosening tongues. Chit Sang and Hakoda revealed more stories about their experiences at the Boiling Rock, while Aang, Toph, Teo, Haru and the Duke asked incessant questions. Zuko was quiet, stirring the remainders of his food absently and barely saying a word.

Suki, meanwhile, did very little more than manhandle Sokka during the entire time. Katara noticed her discomfort increasing with each passing moment as she furtively watched her brother with his girlfriend. _Why isn't Dad saying something? Does he condone teenagers hanging all over each other like this?_ Darkly, she wondered what her father's reaction would be if she dragged Zuko out into the middle of the campfire circle and started suggestively groping the son of Firelord Ozai in front of everyone. _I doubt he'd be so nonchalant about it then. _She rose grudgingly to her feet and began collecting the evening's dishes to clean.

Aang began to stretch and yawn, and Toph, Teo and the Duke began to follow suit. "As awesome as this night has been, I think I'm about ready to head off to sleep," the airbender noted blearily. He looked to Hakoda and Chit Sang. "Does everyone have their sleeping arrangements worked out? We have extra rooms, so everyone can take their pick."

"I'll take the empty one down at the end of the hall, next to the Avatar's room," Chit Sang announced, before he suddenly looked stricken. "Oh, unless you wanted to take that one, Hakoda—"

"Don't worry about it, Chit Sang," Hakoda noted. He nodded briefly toward the Fire Prince. "I'll take the spare bedroom next to Zuko's."

Katara, hovering over Toph to collect her bowl and chopsticks, froze in mid-step and slowly raised her eyes across the circle. A pair of gold irises met hers, and both simultaneously relayed the same message to one another.

…_Shit._

Out of her peripheral vision she spied Hakoda looking in their direction, and Katara hurriedly looked away as she finished gathering the dinner plates.

Sokka made an overly dramatic show of yawning, while Suki tried hard to hide a smirk behind her hand. "_Wellll_, we're getting really tired ourselves, too," he announced to the group at large, and Katara bit her lip to stop a snarky reply from escaping. "Long day, long day. Man, just where does the time _go?_" Suki giggled and clung to him around the waist, and he slipped his arm around her as they got to their feet. "'Night, all."

"Keep the funny business to a minimum, Sokka," Hakoda's voice rang out pleasantly, with a tone of amusement rather than paternal disapproval. Katara could still hear the couple's giggling and whispering as they headed out of the main temple room and into an adjacent hallway.

Oh, how _unfair_ this was. How could her father have such a double standard when it came to them? Nevermind the Fire Nation issue; she knew that no matter whom she was involved with—earth or water or airbender—her father would have never approved of her sneaking away and spending the night in a boy's room, ever, while Sokka was free to explore the wild and debauched world of teenaged sex with completely free rein.

But it was a moot point, anyway; they weren't going to have any sort of chance to enact any penance now, not with Hakoda sleeping in an adjacent room.

Haru was busily chatting with Chit Sang, and Katara overheard snippets of their conversation as she passed them on her way to take care of the dishware. She stopped in front of Zuko and bent at the waist, holding her hand out to take his dish; he handed it to her but didn't relinquish it, his lips parting as though he were about to say something.

Hakoda, from across the temple room, called and waved him over. "Zuko. Come over here, for a minute."

Again their eyes met, gold and blue, and Katara saw his throat move with his heavy swallow. He was nervous. _…What do you think he wants?_, she read in his gaze, and she widened her eyes and gave a slight shrug.

_I have no idea, but you'd better go with him._ She motioned with her eyes.

He half-shook his head. _…I'm not sure I want to._

Hakoda cleared his throat, goading both of them into action—he rose to his feet, she tightened her lips together and took his bowl as he let go. Katara glanced back to see him make his way over to where her father stood. The meal's dishes now seemed far less interesting than what was going on at the other side of the temple, and she frowned minutely to herself as she tried to think of an excuse to get close enough to eavesdrop.

…The idea suddenly hit her like one of Toph's boulders. _I could pretend I'm feeding Appa!_

Under that premise, she gathered a plate of the night's leftover vegetables and rice and made her way nonchalantly over to the other side of the temple, purposely looking anywhere but at her father and the Fire Prince still a fair distance away. She set the plate down in front of the woolly bison, and Appa grunted contentedly before his enormous tongue snaked out and licked the plate clean in one swipe.

It wasn't enough for him, she knew. _Well, as long as I'm pretending it, I may as well perform the task for real._ She set about unpacking some of the extra straw and hay they used to feed him, tossing it in front of the beast before glancing back at the two men deep in conversation. Hakoda and Zuko were sitting across from one another on stone benches, face to face, yet both with their postures stooping and elbows resting on knees as they spoke. At least they looked somewhat relaxed.

Zuko ducked his head from Hakoda's gaze as her father said something, and again Katara was overcome by the insatiable urge to know what was being said.

She looked around and discovered a stack of discarded crates not far from where they sat; ducking behind Appa at first, she made her way over to it slowly and quietly, staying just out of their peripheral vision until she was completely hidden behind. Seated this way with her back to the crates, she couldn't see, only hear voices.

Hakoda was speaking. "—you never met Bato, of my tribe, during your travels, did you?"

"No, sir." Zuko's reply was reserved and polite.

"_Hakoda_ is fine," her father gently corrected. "Anyway, when Bato met with them, he was to deliver a message to my children for me. Aang intercepted it and hid it from them, when he realized it was going to call them away from him."

This time it was Katara who ducked her head, remembering. Aang had been so frightened that Sokka and Katara were going to leave him. She'd been furious with him when she'd found out he'd hid the letter, but at the same time his desperation at being left alone again had moved her, and she hadn't been able to stay angry.

Zuko snorted softly before replying. "That _does_ sound like Aang."

"…I should expect by now that he's taking his responsibilities a little more seriously, now that Sozin's Comet is on the horizon," Hakoda went on, sternly.

"I believe he is, s—uh—Hakoda. He's been working very hard at his firebending." The Fire Prince strengthened the sincerity in his voice. "I think he's realizing lately just how important his actions as the Avatar really are."

"I hope so. Because our future in this war depends on it." He paused, before exhaling a soft sound of amusement, and Katara could almost see her father's rueful smile in her mind as he said his next words. "To be honest, I never thought in a million eons I'd be sitting here, like this—discussing the Avatar, with the Prince of the Fire Nation, of all people."

There was a hesitant lapse from Zuko. "…I never thought I would be talking to the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, either," he admitted.

"No—but you've visited our Tribe, or so I've heard from Sokka."

Katara's lips pulled into a grimace. _Oh yeah._ She'd almost forgotten about that.

"Oh…right." A sheepish pause, as Zuko cleared his throat. "About that—I'm really sor—"

His voice trailed off; Hakoda had apparently stopped him with a gesture. "Zuko, from what I understand, you are not the same person you were back then. Sokka was apparently more miffed about the destruction of his shoddy little watchtower at the Southern Tribe, than anything else that day. Anyway, regardless, it's in the past, and he's forgiven you." Her father paused. "And after what you went through to help spring me from prison today, so have I."

She could hear both the surprise and relief in the firebender's voice. "Thank you…"

Katara folded her arms across her chest. _Well, __**I**__ certainly haven—_

"…but _Katara_ hasn't." Zuko spoke fast and maybe a little too roughly. Despite his truthfulness, she hadn't expected to hear him say it. Her eyes widened.

"Hmm." Her father hummed thoughtfully. Then there was a rustle of clothing as he stood, then— "…You know what? Let's you and I have a drink. Man to man."

Now she felt her mouth drop open. _What?_

Zuko was apparently just as flummoxed. "Um…"

But Hakoda was already making his way over to Katara's hiding place among the crates, headed towards the containers of the liquor they'd investigated earlier—she froze, holding her breath, as her father rifled through a nearby one to produce a clinking glass bottle. He popped the cork before returning to his seat. "Have a sip, son, it's all right," she heard him say, presumably offering it to Zuko.

_**Son?**_ This was getting weird. Her dad was now _drinking_ with Prince of the Fire Nation. And had just referred to him as '_son_'.

"So, what does a member of the Firelord's royal family think about a girl from the Southern Water Tribe, anyway?" Hakoda asked amiably, and Katara thought she could detect a smirk in his voice. She raised her eyebrows. That was certainly a strange question, but she was even more surprised when she heard Zuko start to cough. Apparently the stuff was really as strong as he'd said it was. Either that, or…

"What's that? I didn't quite get that, son. Speak up."

"I-I'm sorry, I…" Zuko sputtered, still coughing, "…I don't really understand the question? …"

Hakoda's voice was as even as the undisturbed surface of a pond. "What do you think of her?"

Katara simultaneously flushed deep red, from what felt like the roots of her hair to her toes. She strained to hear Zuko's feeble response over the sound of rushing blood in her own ears.

"I…I don't—"

"Somewhere between 'amazing' and 'terrifying'?" Hakoda offered, amused, and Katara felt a simultaneous burst of both pride and shame. She'd thought that description had only applied to Toph.

"…Something like that."

She bristled, folding her arms over her chest. What did Zuko know, anyway? Just because they'd had sex didn't mean anything; he barely knew her at all. And she was more than content to keep it that way.

Her father chuckled. "I thought as much."

There was silence, and then a moment after that the sound of the liquor sloshing in the bottle again. It sounded to Katara as though it'd been an awkward quiet, but she supposed the _hu__o __shui _was helping to resolve that problem.

"I'm sure you already know by now," Hakoda prompted thoughtfully after the lengthy pause, and she leaned in to listen, "that Katara takes grudges very seriously."

Her brows puckered as Zuko snorted in reply. "…I've noticed."

"You may think that it's completely because of what you did or didn't do—this or that." She could see her father in her mind's eye, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly with his words. "And partly it is. But what you don't know, is that it's also because she has an extremely difficult time forgiving people for their mistakes…"

Katara seethed. _He's the Fire Prince. I'm supposed to just forgive him, just like __**that?**__ …_

"…because she can't forgive _herself_, for what she perceives as having made her own." Her mouth went dry.

Zuko was silent. Hakoda continued, his voice dropping lower. "When she was a child, something…horrible happened to her mother."

_Oh no. Not this…he's not going to—_

"…I know," Zuko responded, his voice low and deliberate. "She told me—"

"But I'm sure she didn't tell you that she harbors her own guilt, over it."

There was a pause on the firebender's end. "…Why?"

Her father sighed. "She stumbled upon the Fire Nation soldier confronting my wife. My understanding is that Katara thinks it's somehow her fault that her mother was killed. That if she'd done something, instead of run away from the scene as she'd been told to do, she could have somehow prevented it."

The words stung; Katara shut her eyes against tears that threatened behind her lids.

"She was just a little girl; five years old." Hakoda's voice was simultaneously rough and sad. "There was _nothing_ that she or anyone else could have done to save her mother's life. No one is to blame—except for the monster that did it."

She bowed her chin against her chest. She'd heard it so many times before—from Dad, from Sokka, from Gran-gran. _It's not your fault. You were just a child. You couldn't do anything._

The fury of her emotions made her tremble. _But I'm __**not**__ a little child anymore, _she if it had happened now, with what she knew she could do, she could have saved her mother. _I could have encased his head in ice. I could have stopped his heart. I could have burst every blood vessel in his body, I could've torn him apart by his veins alone, I could've—_

…There was no use in even thinking about such a thing. She hadn't known who the man even was, and she would never be able to find him to enact any violence that she could think of. Against her will, the tears behind her eyes slipped down her cheeks, and she rubbed them away impatiently.

Zuko had been quiet the entire time; she heard him finally speak, his voice still hushed and low but with a new level of solemnity. "Why are you telling me this?" Something she wondered, as well.

"Maybe because I think you, yourself, might understand a little bit about broken families." Katara envisioned Hakoda's shrug, very similar to her brother's. " …And how hard we can be on ourselves, because of them." There was another pause as Zuko presumably digested the words.

"And, just maybe…" Hakoda's voice trailed off, ambiguously; to the untrained ear it would have simply sounded thoughtful, but Katara could detect the underlying hint of curiosity beneath her father's words. She could almost see his lips quirking, eyes crinkling at the corners as he regarded something interesting. What was he looking at, at that moment? …

"—Nevermind. Another time." The firebender must have met his eyes, questioningly. She heard the liquor slosh in the bottle; Hakoda was raising it once more. "Do you want another drink?"

"…Sure."

She heard the sound of Zuko taking sips from it, and for a few moments all was quiet again before her father broke the seemingly comfortable silence between them.

"Someday, in the not-too-distant future, you may end up being Firelord." Hakoda spoke lowly, and Katara again had to strain to hear it. "Not all of your father's former servants and profiteers will agree with a regime change. You're going to need all of the allies you can get, in a post-war minefield of spies and possible revolution. You're going to need people that you know you can count on to stand by you, when it seems as though the rest of the world is against you."

His voice became fond again, wistful. "She's a strong girl, my Katara," he said, and again she felt hot tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from his praise. "A fierce nemesis if you get on her bad side, like a terrible storm wreaking havoc on everything around her.

"But if you become someone she trusts, no one will _ever_ be more loyal to you than she will." Now it had turned firm. "On that, you have my word—from one leader to another."

She brushed the moisture from her eyelashes. Why would her father tell him that?

Zuko was silent for a long moment. Then, "…Thank you, Chief Hakoda." Katara thought his tone sounded different than it had before, as though he were grateful for some sudden insight given to him.

"You're welcome…Prince Zuko."

Their conversation changed once more, the topic spontaneously shifting to outlying Fire Nation strongholds within the Earth Kingdom, and Katara soon found her interest in their dialogue waning. The new topic wasn't nearly as intriguing as listening to them discuss her.

Still discomfited by what she'd overheard, she crept away from her hiding place behind the crates shortly afterwards.

It was bad enough that her father had said what he had—the last thing she wanted was to have the Fire Prince, of all people, pity her. But now they'd somehow developed a rapport between them, Hakoda and Zuko, and it made Katara even more uncomfortable than overhearing her father spilling her own secrets. Because bit by bit it seemed as though everyone, even her own flesh and blood, thought that he should be pardoned for what he'd done.

In light of that, she'd decided what course of action she would take later that night.

She would go to him after everyone was asleep, and simply chastise him for his earlier behavior in front of Aang, without giving away too many sordid details for someone in the next room to hear, and then leave him alone to stew in his regret. It wasn't the elaborate punishment she'd envisioned days ago—restraining him and making him submit to her, a potentially thrilling exercise—but it would at least show him that his actions at the Boiling Rock hadn't completely absolved him. It would remind him that he hadn't been forgiven yet.

…Because he _hadn't_. She was sure of it.

-o-

-o-

Everyone had been in bed for at least a few hours when she finally made her way to his room.

It was dangerous to do this while Hakoda slept next door—not to mention foolish. Her father had the ears of an arctic puma-wolf.

Zuko's door was ajar, with a sliver of light showing underneath it. When she pushed it open slowly, careful not to make it creak, she saw that he was seated on the edge of his bed, his posture slouched thoughtfully, elbows resting on his knees. He'd been waiting for her.

He looked up as she entered and closed the door quietly behind her. The look in his eyes was difficult to identify—was it remorse, or guilt, or compassion? Was it happiness to see her? To Katara the expression seemed to be a strange concoction of all four. She forcibly kept the look on her face neutral.

Zuko turned his head, reaching a bit to pick up a porcelain teacup that sat on the nightstand table by his bed before extending it in her direction. "I brought you something."

More gifts. Was he trying to bribe her into forgiving him? _Well, it's not going to work._ She covered her chest with her folded arms, her tone frosty. "I didn't ask you to bring me anything."

"It's the _hu__o __shui_," he explained, his expression faltering, obviously expecting her to have been thankful. "I thought…you'd want to try some, since your father wouldn't let you." He held out the hand offering it to her, steadily.

She ignored it and tried to appear indifferent. It was better to pretend she hadn't overheard a single snippet of their conversation. "…So what did the both of you talk about, anyway?"

But if Katara thought she was transparent, Zuko didn't detect it. He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, lowering the teacup. "We just talked about a few things. A little bit about you." She startled; she hadn't thought he would be so honest. He replaced the cup of liquor back on the nightstand table. Then, in a soft voice, almost admiringly: "He really loves you, you know."

"…You think I don't know that?" she snapped, her voice inadvertently rising, and he shushed her as he glanced nervously at the wall. His reprimand only served to infuriate her further. "I _know_ my father loves me, I don't need you to tell me that—"

He grimaced, whispering. "He'll hear—"

She put as much authority in her voice as she could muster, lowering it despite herself. "I know what it is that you're trying to do, here, Zuko." She set her jaw, stubbornly. "And it won't work."

Now he blinked, all traces of former concern lost to confusion at the change of topic. "…What?"

"…You know what I mean. Why—" she floundered a bit in the face of his innocent expression and threw up her arms accordingly, "—_why_ are you doing this?"

"Why am I doing _what?_" he retorted in a fierce whisper, his single brow knitting. He looked as though he wanted to throw his arms up as well, in frustration. "I thought you just said you knew what I was doing—_I_ don't even know what I'm doing!"

_Well, that's refreshing. _This honesty of his had a way of catching her off-guard. It was so unlike him—or at least, what she'd thought she knew of him.

"I mean," she bit out angrily, "rescuing my father from prison. Why are you making this—this _thing,_ between us—personal?"

Perhaps it was the way she'd said _thing, _as though the very idea of it was distasteful; she saw Zuko's face fall from confusion into something resembling stony disappointment.

His voice was hard and low. "I rescued your father from prison because it was the right thing to do."

"Oh, as if you've _always_ cared about 'doing the right thing'," she scoffed. "You didn't have to go with Sokka—you could have just told him the way, and given him your war balloon."

"Yes, I could have done that."

"So, why didn't you?" Katara demanded. He stayed silent.

She hated it when he didn't give her the answers she wanted—as though he knew she'd use them as something else to hold over his head.

"Zuko," she said, steeling herself further, "you and I both know that this—" she gestured between them impatiently, "whatever it is—it's just a game. You owe me, and I get to have the satisfaction of knocking your ego down a peg every day. _That's it_."

Zuko snorted. "Right," he scoffed, still holding her gaze. "Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, Katara, you'll actually start to believe it."

"You _really_ think you know me that well, to tell me what I do and don't believe?"

That appeared to shut him up for good. He remained mute, watching her intently. The moment stretched out into another, and still he said nothing; it became a battle of wills between them as they stared one another down, both refusing to submit.

At last, Katara broke the silent skirmish. "Fine," she ground out reluctantly. "You know what? I'll just get to the point, since you're being so disagreeable—I came in here because I have something important to say to you. And that is, _don't_ ever do what you did the evening before you left, while I was doing dishes, in front of Aang, ever again."

"You didn't enjoy it?"

She felt her cheeks flushing dark red at the sarcasm; he enjoyed putting her on the spot and getting unwilling admissions from her, far too often. "Of _course_ I enjoyed it—that's not the point. We can't have Aang knowing about…what we've been doing."

"…Because he kissed you, during the eclipse." Now his tone held a hint of the accusatory.

"It has nothing to do with that." The lie rolled off her tongue smoothly.

"—Fine," Zuko interrupted, scowling as he mirrored her words from a moment earlier, "you've made your point. I got it. End of story. I won't do it again. If that's all you had to say to me, then I'd like to go to sleep, now."

"…Fine."

"_Fine._"

"_Fine!_" she hissed. She turned and moved quickly to the door again, prepared to open it, but stopped before she did and angled her head slightly to see him in her peripheral view. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed.

The conversation still felt unfinished. Almost against her will, she let the words slip quietly through her clenched jaw. "You didn't have to do what you did, you know."

"…So I should have just left your father to rot in prison? Is that it?"

Katara turned fully to face him. "No, I mean—you could have just helped in other ways. You could have just given Sokka your balloon, but you went with him." She blinked, still frowning, as if in sudden understanding. "You didn't have to get yourself punished by the warden, or put your life in danger to protect my father and brother, but…you did."

He watched her evenly, unmoving.

It was increasingly hard to stay angry at him. He hadn't needed to accompany Sokka—in fact, knowing her brother, Sokka had probably insisted on going alone and Zuko had refused to allow it—and he hadn't needed to get himself nearly frozen in a cooler, involved in a prison riot, and then almost burnt to a crisp by his sister. He'd done all of those things with the full knowledge of the danger involved…and he'd done it to protect _her_ own family.

She paused and lowered her head, somewhat grudgingly. She couldn't in good conscience ignore what he'd done.

"Whatever your motivations were, even if they were to try to get me to feel something different…you were there for them, both of them, when they needed help. I love my father, very much, and I missed him, and worried over his safety…and as much as I hate to admit it, you brought him back."

Hesitant, she approached again; he remained sitting on the edge of the bed, his good eye widening in a mixture of surprise and wariness. When she stopped before him she lowered herself onto her knees, folding her legs underneath her and sitting on her heels, head ducked and hands twined in her lap. She didn't look up to see his expression, but she doubted it had changed.

Her voice was quiet. "I owe you my thanks."

She waited, as was Water Tribe custom, for him to acknowledge her formal expression of gratitude in the proper manner—a brief touch on the shoulder or verbal confirmation to let her know the thanks was accepted—but for a long moment, he apparently did nothing. Katara realized, perhaps too late, that of course his own culture would act differently for such a thing, and that he was at a loss. _Perhaps they press their foreheads to the floor, in the Fire Nation…_she'd heard of a depiction of that, once…

But her thought was short-lived as she heard him stir, sliding off the edge of the bed onto the stone floor—and before she could look up he was on his knees as she was, and his fingers were tilting her chin upwards so their eyes met and locked.

She searched his eyes and there was no smugness, none of the haughtiness or gloating she'd thought she might see; his gaze was gentle and bright by the light of the candle at his bed. The fingers at her chin moved to thread themselves at her hairline, palm cupping her cheek.

"…You're welcome," he whispered huskily, and leaned in to kiss her.

It was a soft, chaste kiss—not like what he'd given her that first night, alternately devouring and teasing; nor was it demanding and heated, like the second night. This one was tempered and unhurried, almost careful. It felt as though he were holding himself back.

Katara hadn't thought restraint could ever be a forté of his.

Both still on their knees, she slowly let herself melt into the kiss—realizing he hadn't held anything she'd said in the last ten minutes against her—and in a stroke of daring she parted her lips between his to encourage him further. Zuko was gentle but he was still Zuko, and he cupped her face greedily as he deepened it, tongue caressing the inside of her mouth in hot, wet strokes. He tasted sweet from the liquor. She felt him press forward to embrace her and she pulled back slightly.

"We can't do this, here…my dad," she whispered against his mouth, even more quietly than before. "He'll hear us."

Zuko's mouth moved across the line of her jaw, and down her neck. "No, he won't."

She frowned. "How do you know? He's _really_ good at listening."

"And there's something you don't know about me," he argued back in a whisper. "I'm _really_ good at being quiet and stealthy, when I have to be."

"But—"

He shook his head and silenced her with a kiss, pulling away to mouth the words after he did so. _No more sounds._

No noise? While she didn't think long and drawn-out discussions were necessary, Katara didn't think it would be possible to engage in those kind of activities while being _completely_ silent. Nevertheless, his lips and hands were quite convincing, appealing to her to at least let him prove it, and she let him pull him towards her again as his mouth claimed hers.

And then, just as she was falling into a delicious paralysis from the touch of his hands, she felt him pinch her nipple sharply through her robe. She squeaked—and then clamped down on the sound abruptly.

She pulled back to look directly at him, bewildered and maybe even a little bit pissed; he smirked back triumphantly. Katara returned the smug gaze with lowered lids and a quirk of her own lips. The game was apparently on.

She put her arms about his neck then and crawled into his lap, essentially straddling him with his back against the edge of the bed, and with one smooth motion she sank deliberately down against that hard and insistent part of him, feeling his desperate struggle to try not to gasp aloud against her mouth.

_Feel like making some noise? Two can play at this game, Zuko. _

Then his hands were under her thighs, supporting her and keeping her legs locked tightly around him as he got to his knees. With the momentum he turned them both around, this time pressing her back against the edge of the bed. Katara let out a soft chuckle under her breath, and he quickly chased it with a kiss. She closed her teeth on his bottom lip, not painfully but none too gently, and worried it a bit. A low groan partially escaped from his throat.

The frustration of the past couple of days must have gotten to him then, because before Katara knew what he was doing she found herself being lifted up once more—he rose from his knees to his feet, still cradling her—and she was deposited unceremoniously on top of the bed, her legs still linked around him and pulling him down on top of her. She started to giggle at the clumsiness of it as she bounced slightly against the mattress, but Zuko's hand quickly stifled the sound before it erupted.

He shook his head, insistent despite the amusement dancing in his good eye. _…Stop laughing_, he mouthed silently, and when she had calmed herself sufficiently he took his hand away and ducked his head to gently replace it with his own lips. Her eyes closed; arms sliding around his neck, legs falling akimbo on either side of him, she felt herself yielding again like a flower bathed in sunlight. His warm hands slid down the length of her body, fingers slowly tracing the contours of her curves through her robe.

There was something drowsily calming and yet at the same time thrilling in the way he touched her. This time there seemed to be no hidden motive, no malice, no punishment he had in mind—only a fumbling but endearing exchange of pleasure. For some reason she was reminded of the expression on his face when he'd spied Sokka and Suki together around the campfire, that wistful look of his at the time that she couldn't quit fathom; now she thought it might have had to do with this tenderness he demonstrated.

When had the dynamic between them changed, into _this?..._

She didn't have any more time to ponder those thoughts. Zuko shifted his body forward and his lips and teeth found the smooth skin of her neck. Her breath hissed slightly as she felt how hard he'd remained. He pressed himself directly between her legs, first only a shallow thrust but then a longer, deeper roll against her body, and Katara tenaciously fought the urge to groan out loud, settling instead for a silent, open-mouthed gasp.

He took that as encouragement and pulled himself back, briefly sitting up on his knees above her on the bed. Off came his tunic over his head, tousling his hair in the process. She had a moment to appreciate the sleek paleness of his chest once again, until her focus was interrupted by his impatient hands working at untying the sash of her robe; belatedly she realized she could be helping him, and she tugged impatiently at her leggings, twisting out of them and shucking them down her hips and legs.

Once this was accomplished, baring her white wraps that served as underwear, she helped him shrug herself out of the sleeves. As he tossed her robe to the floor she took opportunity while he was distracted and moved her hand down the plane of his stomach, feeling the muscles underneath his skin and the sparse hair below his navel, traversing it further south just below the drawstring of his pants. Hovering over her and supporting himself on his hands, Zuko stilled when he felt her fingers reach her destination; she watched him bite his lower lip as she gently traced the hard outline of his flesh through his clothing. He let out a hissing breath—almost explosive—when she curled her fingers around him firmly, grasping him.

_Sshhh_, she mouthed, pursing her lips around the word. Katara decided she liked the half-glazed, half-pleading look in his eye when she touched him. She felt powerful at being able to make him react. Slowly she continued her exploration, lessening her grip again, drawing her fingers along his length. He ducked his head and kissed her again longingly; she gave him a small squeeze as she stroked in response, listening to his breathing lose its tempo and become more erratic.

Zuko's arms trembled a bit from holding himself upright, and she felt him relax his body as he lowered himself beside her, curling against her on her left side and encouraging her to turn toward him as well so as to not break her hand's contact with the front of his pants. He continued his slow kisses as they turned, biting her lips lightly as she'd done to him earlier. She strengthened her fingers' touches again, and his lips gaped helplessly between hers.

His fingers moved restlessly over her exposed skin, shifting eventually to her wrap-covered breasts and circling the nipples through her bindings with a feathery-light touch. Katara shuddered pleasantly but continued stroking him, feeling his fingers worming their way inbetween the fabric covering her and underneath, and eventually tugging it away so that her breasts were bared completely. He caressed her nipples lightly with his fingers and thumbs as they kissed, alternating between rough flicks with his fingertips and soothing rubs; she gasped as she felt them quickly harden under his insistent attention.

As if in retaliation, she had another moment of boldness and reached _into_ his pants, over and under the drawstring, seeking out his smooth, hot flesh. She fit her hand around it and watched with a sense of satisfaction as he seemed to nearly fall apart; body going rigid, eyes fluttering shut, his neck arching with pleasure. It made her want to do more.

She rose on her knees and climbed over him as he lay prone on the bed. Hovering above him she tugged gently at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down part way over his hips. Zuko was momentarily stunned into immobility, but quickly recovered and lifted his hips to help her. She looked down at the bared flesh before her and took him again in her hand, sliding her gaze up once more to watch the hunger in his eyes as she did. She stroked him firmly, and this time she knew he could see as well as feel it—and she knew he was doing his best to hold back sounds.

Then she leaned down toward it, moving her hand lower to steady him, and took him slowly into her mouth.

Zuko's eyes squeezed shut and his teeth clenched together to stifle a groan unsuccessfully, his head thrown back against the bed. Katara was caught between gloating that she'd wrestled another sound out of him, and continuing her activity—but with a mouth full of him, there was no room for reveling in her authority.

She experimented a little bit with movement and pressure; speeding up the tempo and then slowing it down, pressing her lips and tongue tighter against him and then releasing, all the while listening to his labored breathing and sighs that he tried his best to keep quiet. One of his hands tangled in her long hair, trembling with the effort it took not to tug too tightly on it , as the other sought aimlessly for something to do—grabbing the headboard, fisting in the sheets, throwing his arm over his face to cover his eyes. She could almost hear his heart pounding—probably deafening, in his ears—and she could feel his pulse racing between the salty taste of him on her lips.

Katara wondered as she sucked him how he would _possibly_ be able to keep a straight face if she'd been doing this to him in front of but out of the sight of the others, as he'd done to her in the kitchen behind the shelf; _from the look of it, he wouldn't have lasted a minute before giving himself away._

Just as she'd thought that, he suddenly curled his body upwards, bringing his other hand to her head to stop her and gently pull her away. She spied a look at his face, and he was flushed, panting—nearly undone. He had to have been close_._

He pulled her up beside him and rolled them over on their sides again to face one another. This time he kissed her and simultaneously slid one warm hand down the front of her long underwear, fingers finding her hot and wet, and began stroking and teasing her flesh. She squirmed with pleasure and set about pushing the material down her hips, with his assistance.

Then it became a quiet war of wills to see who would dominate. She was already slightly atop him, and had an advantage; but he had the greater height and weight, not to mention muscle mass, and he wrestled her over with ease to lie under him. Grinning and completely silent, they tussled with one another, flipping each other over again and again on the bed.

Finally, the struggle ceased when Zuko managed to turn her over on her side, her back faced to him, and pulled her up against his chest. Her thrashing and resisting stopped when she felt him nip the back of her exposed neck, his bare cock moving slowly against the curve of her ass and pressing downward at the junction of her thighs. She stilled, wondering in the back of her mind if he was able to slip himself inside that way. Lying on their sides like this would be comfortable.

As if in answer to her unspoken question he slid a hand along her thigh and lifted her leg just slightly, tilting his pelvis downward so that the head of him just barely brushed her wet sex. "_Like this_," he spoke quietly, barely a whisper, into her ear. Katara pressed back against him excitedly and felt his cock sliding against the moisture between her lower lips.

She turned her head to whisper her own encouragement to him, arching her back and lifting her leg higher. "…_More_."

He did as she requested and angled himself, keeping one arm holding her thigh and the other wrapped around her waist underneath—and then he slid inside, slowly and carefully. She was hot and slick, and although she already knew it he told her so, muttering it in her ear so quietly that it almost sounded like breathing.

_So much for the no-talking rule. _

She couldn't help but groan softly as he entered, and he quickly used the hand around her waist to reach up and cover her mouth. Katara wanted to argue that she wasn't able to do that to him, but her mind was blanked when he shifted inside her and began to leisurely move, pumping into her in an unhurried rhythm. The angle of their joining only allowed for such slow movement, but the feel of it was enough to make her moan underneath his hand; she felt his lips and teeth at the soft part of her earlobe and down the sensitive line of her neck.

He picked up the pace, adjusting his upper body slightly away from hers to do so, but moving his hand from her thigh to tease and pinch each of her nipples. As pleasurable as it felt, it wasn't enough for her; boldly, she took his hand and brought it down between her legs, and without any further encouragement he stroked her tender flesh with his fingers, massaging her already-swollen clit in time to his thrusts.

Katara felt herself clenching around him, felt her muscles contracting, and knew her orgasm was already approaching. She wanted to hold out as long as she could—it felt amazing this way, more intimate, almost like cuddling—but she knew she wouldn't last. The buildup of waiting three days after their last encounter was too much.

And then he bit down on her shoulder—hard—to stifle his sounds, and she knew it was all over for both of them. The bite brought her over the edge and she stilled as the orgasm took her in its grip, gasping under his hand. She felt him pulsing into her, his body shuddering with the force of it. She wondered vaguely if his teeth had drawn blood.

His hand fell away from her mouth. They held the position for several moments, breathing fast, and Zuko nuzzled her neck affectionately until their combined panting lessened a bit. Finally Katara turned over to face him—wincing as the action pulled him out of her, but too flush with pleasure to ultimately care—and he cradled her face in his hands reverently as he kissed her, soft close-lipped kisses that helped to soothe and calm her still-racing heart.

"…Stay with me here, tonight," he quietly implored, pausing in his kisses to hold her gaze steady with his.

She shook her head and returned his soft whisper—even as she smiled a bit, sorely tempted to give in. "You know I can't." Her eyes flicked toward the wall. "What would he say if he saw me leaving your room in the morning?"

Zuko was unrelenting. "I'll wake you up at sunrise, then. I always wake up a little bit before, anyway. "

She knew it was true, and she grinned and threw a dark leg over his pale hip, enjoying the visual contrast of his skin against hers. He pulled it over him more securely, running a hand along the soft inside of her knee.

"Why…is there a particular reason you _want_ me to stay?" she whispered coyly.

"…Maybe." He moved his hand up further to stroke the inside of her hip gently, a small smirk playing on his drowsy features.

"'_Maybe_'?" She dramatically feigned insult, and then rolled over on her other side again away from him, presenting him once more with her back. "You'll have to do better than _that_, I'm afraid."

He shifted in the bed so that he molded himself to her back, arms around her as he spooned her against his chest, and lazily he began kissing her exposed neck beneath her voluminous hair. She shivered surreptitiously.

"'M sorry, you'll have to forgive me," he murmured, his words slightly muffled. "I'm having a hard time matching wits with you, right now."

"Too tired?" Katara smirked in spite of herself.

She felt his head shake against her neck, and he sighed in her ear. "No. Too happy."

Her eyes went wide and her smile waned. While she hadn't expected that reply, strangely she felt something warming in the pit of her stomach at his words. "…I thought you were never happy," she retorted, trying to disguise the nervous tremor in her whisper.

He nuzzled her. "Stranger things have happened."

_You mean, like this? _was Katara's vague thought.

As if he'd magically heard her thoughts, he went on, "Who would have thought I'd be here with you, like this, right now…after everything we've gone through?"

"…Yeah…who knew?" she asked hesitantly. Her throat managed a heavy swallow. This was a distinctly uncomfortable conversation.

"…You know, I'm just glad everything turned out okay with the prison escape," she said after the short pause, trying hard to sound nonchalant and ignoring the part of her brain that questioned the change of topic. "It sounds like there were so many things that could have gone wrong."

Zuko seemed perplexed by the divergence, and she felt him loosen his hold a bit. "…Yeah," he said, with a hint of uncertainty. "I guess so."

She turned over to face him again. "I mean, it sounded really dangerous. You could have become hypothermic from the cold locker…and starting a prison riot is just asking for trouble…"

"I did a lot of things that were asking for trouble that day," he confessed, smirking again slightly, and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

Unsuccessfully, she tried to ignore the affectionate gesture; instead she found herself leaning into it. "Like what else?"

"Even before all that, I attacked a guard and got myself arrested and brought before the warden, just so that your brother could have a visit with his girlfriend in her cell."

"You did that for Sokka?"

He nodded. "It was stupid of me, though. If I'd known that the warden was Mai's uncle, and that he would recognize me, I would've—"

Katara's mouth gaped, and she pounced on the statement. "—Wait, _Mai's uncle_ is the warden of the Boiling Rock?"

Zuko suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable, as though he'd let loose a secret, and his hand fell away from her hair. "Uh, yeah…"

"And Mai's uncle…recognized you?" she asked, something clicking in her brain.

He frowned as though he didn't like the new line of questioning. "Of course, he—he knew who the Firelord's son was."

Okay, that was reasonable. But something still didn't sit right with her. She began working the specifics of it out in her head as she spoke. "But he wouldn't have expected you to show up there, in a prison. That's why Mai and Azula and Ty Lee showed up there, isn't it? Because Mai's uncle told them you were there. It's not as though they were following the Avatar this time."

"Well, no, but…"

Her brow knitted into a frown, blue eyes narrowing. "And you said that Mai…she helped you escape. Even though you had her uncle captive in the gondola, with you? Why would she help you when her family member's safety was at risk?"

Zuko's discomfort seemed to increase. "I told you, there was a rebell—"

"—You're important to her, somehow; really important to Mai. Aren't you?"

He sighed and rolled over onto his back, and was silent for a long moment as Katara lay still next to him, practically holding her breath.

Finally he spoke to the ceiling. "…She was my girlfriend, back in the Fire Nation."

"Your…" She couldn't even finish the question; her mind was already spinning in circles, the truth crashing down like a wave over her head. Zuko turned again to look at her wordlessly.

She slid off the other side of the bed and rose quickly, gathering her clothing from the floor.

"…Katara."

"I don't want to hear_ another word_."

It was seethed quietly through clenched teeth, but the expression on her face—flushed with anger—must have been enough. He was silenced immediately.

He reached for her from the bed, and Katara viciously smacked his hand away as she fastened the ties on her robe. The wounded look on his face would have moved her, given what they'd just shared not twenty minutes earlier—but her heart was too encased in ice already by that point for her to care. _A girlfriend. A __**girlfriend**_…and here he was, playing at being contrite, fooling her into sharing his bed as penance for what he'd done, pretending he was _happy_, of all things, here with her. He really did know how to lie like his life depended on it.

And the worst part of it all was that she had almost believed it.

She finished dressing and turned back to face him as she marched for the door. He was still on the bed, unmoving, guilt radiating from his gaze.

"Just do me a favor, Zuko…and_ stay away from me_." It wasn't a whisper; her father would hear it and know then that there was definitely nothing going on between them, at all.

_Nothing._

Katara left his room, shutting the door tightly behind her in her wake. This was the _last_ time she'd let him play her for a fool. She would see to that.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it ends on kind of a downer, and after all that lovely smut, too… _; But remember, I have to set the stage for Katara's righteous anger in TSR. XD So I will be working on that ASAP…and fair warning, it's gonna be quite angsty and dominating, esp. from Katara's side. :D Stay tuned!


End file.
